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A 

MODERN 

MERCENARY 

BY 

K. AND HESKETH PRI’J^CHARD 
[E. AND H. HERON] 



NEW YORK 

DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. 


41440 

Copyright, 1899, by 
DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. 


TWOC«»>'>"i «'5C6tv6f; 











Press of J, J. Little & Co. 
Astor Place, New York 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. A Lieutenant of Frontier Cavalry . . i 

II. A Gentleman of the Guard . . . .14 

III. The Gentlemen of the Guard ... 28 

IV. Danger Signals 41 

V. Good Luck and a Firefly .... 48 

VI. The Cloister of St. Anthony ... 62 

VII. One Woman’s Diplomacy 79 

VIII. A Question of the Guard .... 94 

IX. The Castle of Sagan 106 

X. Count Simon of Sagan 120 

XI. A Counsel of Expediency .... 130 

XII. Anthony Unziar 136 

XIII. Love in Two Shades 144 

XIV. Half a Promise 153 

XV. CoLENDORP 159 

XVI. ‘With Your Lips to the Hurt’ . . .170 

XVII. Iris 177 

XVIII. The Sword of Unziar 186 

XIX. In Diplomatic Relations .... 195 

XX. Under the Pines 202 

XXI. Love’s Beggar 210 

XXII. In Love with Honour 222 

XXIII. How Rallywood had His Orders . . 233 

XXIV. On the Frontier ... . . 239 


VI 


CONTEJNTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXV. 

A Question of Two Moralities 

. 246 

XXVI. 

Love’s Handicap 

. 258 

XXVII. 

The Man of the Hour .... 

. 267 

XXVIII. 

The Arrest 

. 277 

XXIX. 

The Court-Martial 

. 282 

XXX. 

‘ Upon the Great World’s Altar-Stairs’ 

. 292 

XXXI. 

Duke Gustave 

. 300 

XXXII. 

For A Season 

. 307 


A MODERN MERCENARY' 


CHAPTER I. 

A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. 

During four months of the year the independent 
State of Maasau/ we will call it — which is not very 
noticeable even on the largest sized map of Europe — 
is tormented by a dry and weary north-east wind. 
And nowhere is its influence more unpleasantly felt 
than in the capital, Revonde, which stands shoulder- 
on to the hustling gales, its stately frontages and 
noble quays stretching out westwards along the 
shores of the Kofn almost to where the yellow waters 
of the river spread fan-wise into a grey-green sea. 

The tsa was blowing strongly on a certain Novem- 
ber afternoon, eddying and whistling about the 
wide spaces of the Grand Square as John Rallywood, 
a tall figure in a military cloak, turned the corner of 
a side street and met its full blast. He faced it for 
some yards along the empty pavements, then ran up 
the steps of his club. A few minutes later he passed 
through a lofty corridor and entered a door over 


2 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


which is set a quaint invitation to smokers, which 
may not be written down here, for it is the jealously 
guarded copyright of the club. 

It chanced that the room for the moment had but 
one occupant, who sat in a roomy armchair by the 
white stove. This gentleman did not raise his head, 
but continued to gaze thoughtfully at his well shaped 
though square and comfortable boots. 

Rallywood paused almost imperceptibly in his 
stride. 

‘Hullo, Major! Glad to see you,' he said, as he 
dropped into an armchair opposite. 

Major Counsellor stood up with his back to the 
stove, thereby giving a view of a red, challenging 
face, heavy eyebrows, and a huge white droop of 
moustache. He looked down at Rallywood consid- 
eringly before he spoke. ‘So you’re here. I 
imagined they kept you pretty closely on the frontier. 
‘The world been kicking you?’ 

Rallywood laughed. 

‘No, but it would do me good to kick the world,’ 
he answered as he helped himself from the Major’s 
cigar case. ‘Five years, almost six, spent on the 
frontier, with nothing to show for it, isn’t good 
enough. I’ve come up to send in my papers.’ 

“Then you’ll be a fool,’ returned the Major with 
decision. 

Rallywood was busy lighting his cigar ; when that 
was arranged to his satisfaction he said easily — 

‘Just so. History repeats itself.’ 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. 3 

Counsellor stood squarely upright with his hands 
behind him. 

'Any other reasons ?’ he asked. 

'Plenty.’ 

'Pity ! Are they serious or — otherwise ?’ 

Rallywood pulled his moustache. 

'Why is it a pity ?’ he asked slowly. 

'Because there is going to be trouble here, and 
with trouble comes a chance.’ 

Rallywood smoked on in silence. He was a big, 
shallow-flanked man with the marks of the world 
upon him, and that indescribable air which comes 
to one who has passed a good portion of his time in 
laughing at the arbitrary handicaps arranged by 
Fate in the race of life. 

'Where do you propose to go?’ asked Counsellor 
after an interval. 

'Back to Africa, I think — Buluwayo, Johannes- 
burg, anywhere. South Africa’s still in the bud, 
you see.’ 

'Yes, but it is a biggish bud and will take time 
to blow. You can afford to wait and — it may be 
worth your while.’ 

Rallywood threw a swift glance at Counsellor’s 
inscrutable face. 

'Seven years ago,’ he said in a deliberate manner, 
'you told me it was worth while, but life has not 
grown more interesting since then.’ 

'Ah!’ Counsellor paused, then went on with a 
grim smile, 'At your age, John, there are possi- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


4 

bilities. Think over it. After hanging on here for 
more than five years why lose your chance now? 
Look at those fellows.’ He pointed out into the 
square. 

Rallywood rose lazily and gazed out also. The 
prospect was not cheering. A few troopers, their 
cloaks flapping in the wind, were galloping across 
the square on the way to relieve guard at the Palace, 
and under the statue of the late Grand Duke on 
horseback three men in tall hats stood talking to- 
gether; then they turned and walked towards the 
club. 

‘Know them ?’ asked Counsellor. 

Rallywood shook his head. 

‘The man with the beard is Stokes of the ‘Times 
next him is Bradley; he’s on another big daily. 
Their being here speaks for itself. Maasau is going 
to take up people’s attention shortly. The Grand 
Duke is in a tight place, and there will be a flare- 
up sooner or later.’ 

‘And you advise me to stop and see it through?' 
said Rallywood meditatively from the window ; then 
he lounged back to his chair. ‘How will it end?' 

Counsellor shook the ash from his cigar. 

‘Selpdorf is the man of the hour,’ he said. 

On the autumn evening when these two men 
were talking at the club the Duchy of Maasau was, 
in the opinion of Maasaun patriots, going as fast as 
it could to the devil. With them, it may be added, 
the devil was personified and bore the name of a 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. 5 

neighbouring nation. The one person who ignored 
this fact was the Grand Duke. With an inset, stub- 
born pride he believed that his country must remain 
for ever, as the long centuries had known her, 
Maasau the Free. This being the case, he felt him- 
self at liberty to spend his time in cursing the fate 
that had refused blue seas and skies to wintry 
Revonde, thus depriving it of these sources of rev- 
enue which depend upon climate, and which are en- 
joyed by places far less naturally beautiful than the 
capital of Maasau. 

The Duke, prematurely aged, by the manner of 
his life, made it his chief business to devise schemes 
for raising money whereby he might carry on the 
staling pleasures of his youth. Beyond this the 
administration of public affairs was left entirely in 
the supple hands of the Chancellor, M. Selpdorf, 
while the Duke, with those who surrounded him, 
plunged into the newest excitement of the hour, for 
who knew what a day might bring forth ? The Court 
was like a stage lit by lurid light, on which the actors 
laughed and loved, danced and fought to the music 
of a wild finale, that whirled and maddened before 
the crash of the coming end. 

Once upon a time Maasau was accounted of no 
particular importance or value amongst its bigger 
neighbours ; but of late, for various reasons, its for- 
tunes had become the subject of attention and discus- 
sion in at least three foreign chancelleries, where old 
maps were being looked up and new ones bought and 


6 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


painted different colours, according as seemed most 
desirable by the bearded men, who sat in council to 
apportion the marsh, rock, dune, and forest of which 
the now absorbingly interesting pigmy State was 
composed. 

In fact, Maasau, with its twenty miles or so of 
seaboard, containing one excellent port in esse and 
two others in posse, had become a Naboth’s vineyard 
to a country almost land-bound and yet dreaming of 
the supremacy of the four seas. On this ambition 
and its possible consequences the other Great Powers 
looked, to speak diplomatically, with coldness. 

It was generally understood that the English For- 
eign Office desired the maintenance of the status quo; 
France was supposed to be ready to clap a young 
republic on the back and to accord it her protection, 
while Russia played her own dumb and blinding 
game, of which none could definitely pronounce the 
issue. The political world thus stood at gaze, 
watching every change and prepared to take advant- 
age of any chance that offered. The honours of the 
game so far had lain with M. Selpdorf, who scored 
each trick with the same bland smile. Whenever the 
Treasury of Maasau was at a low ebb Selpdorf 
usually had a thirteenth card to lay upon the table, 
and as the nations cautiously proceeded to frustrate 
each other’s purposes royal remittances from Heaven 
knows where flowed in abundantly to replenish the 
bankrupt exchequer of the State. 

When Major Counsellor expressed his emphatic 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. J 

disapproval of the intended resignation of Rally- 
wood a new development was in the air. Hitherto 
the lead had mostly devolved upon Selpdorf ; on this 
occasion he was known to be hanging back, and the 
question of who would take the initiative was the 
question of the day. The fact that Germany had 
lately accredited a new representative, a certain 
Baron von Elmur, to the Court of Maasau, — an able 
man whose reputation rested mainly on the success- 
ful performance of missions of a delicate nature, — 
added to the tension of the moment. 

‘So you say they are getting up steam in Maasau 
said Rally wood again. T have been out in the wilds 
for the last six months, and don’t know so much 
about events as I might.’ 

‘Steam? growled Counsellor. ‘Steam enough 
to wreck Europe! I almost wish I’d never god- 
fathered you into this blessed little stoke-hole. Why 
the deuce didn’t you enlist at home instead of coming 
here ?’ 

‘That was out of the question, of course.’ 

‘Why? Isn’t our army good enough for you to 
fight in ?’ 

‘If it was only that! — I could fight in the ranks, 
God knows, but I couldn’t parade in them ! Besides, 
the life here suited me — then.’ 

‘What’s gone wrong with it now ? I should have 
thought you would have got used to it by this time,’ 
observed Counsellor with the air of the older man. 
It was not the first occasion on which he had played 


8 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


the part of elderly relative towards Rallywood dur- 
ing the course of their queer, rough-grained friend- 
ship — a friendship of a type which exists only be- 
tween man and man, and even then is sufficiently 
rare. 

‘Precisely, Pm too infernally used to it! It was 
not half bad as long as the newness lasted, but I can’t 
stand it any longer ! I’m sick of the monotony. Do 
you know old Fitzadams’s criticism on the service 
here? “Dust and drill, drill and dust, and fill in the 
chinks with homicidal manoeuvres.’ ” 

‘Maasau only apes its betters. These Continental 
armies devote themselves very assiduously to rehears- 
als, and there is no end of waste about the process,’ 
remarked Counsellor. ‘They rehearse in summer 
and get sunstroke ; then they rehearse in winter with 
rheumatisms and lung troubles growing on every 
bush. The bill for blank cartridges alone is enor- 
mous I And all because they have no India and no 
Africa, as we have, where we can give our fellows 
a taste of the real thing any day in the week. We 
carry on a small war with a regiment, or despatch a 
youngster with half a company to teach manners and 
honesty to twenty thousand niggers. The peculiar- 
ity of our army is that it is always at war. In this 
way we escape the dangers of theory, and get prac- 
tice with something for our money into the bar- 
gain.’ 

‘Our plan has its advantages,’ agreed Rallywood 
lazily. ‘I saw in South Africa what a little active 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. 9 

service does for a man. The first time he is under 
fire he is persuaded that he is going to be killed, and 
that every shot must hit him. But after a trial or 
two he begins to think the odds are in his favour 
and he becomes a much more effective fighting ma- 
chine.’ 

‘Necessarily he does. We don’t half realise the 
value of our colonies yet — as a training ground for 
our soldiers. The British army is the smallest in 
Europe, but it remains to be seen what account it 
will give of itself if it is ever brought into contact 
with these huge, peace-trained conscript monsters.’ 

‘When the Duke dies ’ began Rallywood, 

harking back to the former topic of conversation. 

The door was softly opened, and a waiter ad- 
vanced into the room, bearing a letter for Rally- 
wood, who took it and laid it down on the table 
beside him, then looked at Counsellor for an answer 
to his half spoken question. Counsellor shrugged 
his shoulders. 

‘Who can tell?’ he replied. ‘Meanwhile take the 
gifts the gods have sent you to-day,’ and he pointed 
to the long, heavily sealed envelope that lay at Rally- 
wood’s elbow. ‘Selpdorf, I see, already has his 
finger upon you.’ 

Rallywood broke the great seals, and, having read, 
he tossed the paper into the other’s hands. 

‘He wishes to see me at 9 130. What can he want 
with me ?’ he asked. 

‘Probably he has heard you intend to cut the ser- 


lO A MODERN MERCENARY. 

vice. It appears to me, Rallyvvood, that your chance 
has come out to meet you.’ 

‘How could he have heard that I meant to go? 
And what can it matter to any one if I do ?’ went on 
Rallywood incredulously. 

Counsellor shook his head, but made no other 
reply. 

‘A lieutenant of the Frontier Cavalry,’ resumed 
Rallywood, ‘is merely a superior make of excise of- 
ficer !’ 

‘You will be something more or something else 
before lo, I expect. As for what he wants with 
you, that is for you to find out — if you can.’ 

‘It is to be hoped he may feel moved to let me 
have my arrea!rs of pay,’ said Rallywood, relapsing 
into his usual tone of indifference; ‘that is the chief 
consideration with us on the frontier just now.’ 

‘He probably will if it suits him — or rather per- 
haps if you suit him. Come over and dine with me 
presently at the Continental. There’s generally a 
decent dinner to be had there.’ 

John Rallywood, one of the old Lincolnshire 
Rallywoods, had been born to a fortune, and more- 
over with an immense capacity for enjoying it after a 
wholesome fashion. Queens Fain had fallen to 
him while still an infant upon the death of a great- 
uncle, and with the old place were connected all 
those hundred untranslatable ties and associations 
which go to make up a boy’s dreams. He was a 
man of suppressed, perhaps half unconscious, but 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. I I 

nevertheless deep-rooted enthusiasms; hence when 
the blow fell which deprived him not only of his in- 
heritance, but also cut short the life of his mother, 
the unexpected, almost intolerable anguish he silently 
endured had left a deep, defacing scar upon his per- 
sonality. 

Up to twenty-two the record of his life, if not 
striking, had been clean and manly. He had passed 
through Sandhurst, and joined a dragoon regiment 
for something over a year, when an older branch of 
the family, supposed for a quarter of a century to 
be extinct, suddenly presented itself very much alive 
in the person of a middle-aged, middle-class Ameri- 
can. Within three months the man’s claim was sub- 
stantiated, and estate, fortune, position, and home — 
as far as John Rally wood was concerned — had 
melted into thin air. 

During this period of disruption and trouble 
Counsellor, who happened to be distantly connected 
with him, came into his life. They did not meet 
very often and spoke little when together, but mu- 
tual knowledge and liking resulted. Friendship is 
a living thing : it cannot be made ; it grows. 

Rallywood, when he turned to seek the means of a 
livelihood, found himself, as he said long afterwards, 
standing in the corridor of life with all the doors 
shut and no key to open them. 

His tastes and training alike led in the direction 
of a military career, and presently he went out to 
the Cape, where he spent a year or two in a police 


12 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

force which was in time disbanded, and he returned 
to England once more at a loose end. 

At this juncture Major Counsellor suggested to 
him the possibility of obtaining a commission in the 
little army of the Duchy of Maasau. This hint set 
him on the right track. The regiments of Maasau, 
though few in number, carried splendid traditions. 
Their ranks were drawn from a stolid, silent peasan- 
try, and officered by a wire-strung, high tempered 
aristocracy, born of a mixed race, it is true, but none 
the less frantically devoted to the freedom and in- 
dependence of their shred of a fatherland. 

In compliance with a private request on the part 
of Major Counsellor the British Minister at Revonde 
bestirred himself to procure a commission for Rally- 
wood, who thus became a lieutenant in the Frontier 
Cavalry, and for more than five years had taken his 
share in riding and keeping the marches of Maasau 
gaining much experience in capturing smugglers 
and in superintending the digging out of snowed up 
trains. But life on the frontier, though crammed 
with physical activity and routine work, was in every 
other respect monotonously empty, and breaks in 
the shape of furlough were few and far between. 
Half liked, wholly respected, and a little feared 
amongst his comrades, but always remaining a 
lieutenant to whom now, the State owed eighteen 
months’ arrears of pay, Rallywood, inreturn, owed to 
Maasau only the qualified service of an unpaid man, 
but gave it the full devotion of a capable officer. 


A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY. I 3 

As to Counsellor, no one could quite account for 
his presence at Revonde at the present moment. He 
was supposed to be attached in some indefinite way 
to the Legation, but he described himself as a bird 
of passage, whose appearance in the European capi- 
tal simply meant whim or pleasure, for he was grow- 
ing old and lazy and could not be brought to account 
for his wanderings, which he assured those who ven- 
tured to enquire were chiefly undertaken in search of 
health. Nevertheless wherever he went or came 
something interesting in a political sense — and more 
often than not, in favour of British interests — was 
almost sure to happen. 

In former days he had filled the position of mili- 
tary attache to two or three of the more important 
embassies, and was said to be the best known man in 
Europe. He had, moreover, the right to carry upon 
his breast the ribbon and decoration of more than 
one exclusive and distinguished Order. Of the 
many rumours associated with him this saying was 
certainly true : that one could never enter the smok- 
ing-room of any diplomatic club in any city in 
Europe without standing a fair chance of encounter- 
ing Major Counsellor warming himself beside the 
stove ? 

Therefore he had naturally an enormous circle of 
acquaintance, each individual knowing very little 
about him, though he always formed an interesting 
subject of conversation, and a political opinion 
backed by his name became at once important. 


CHAPTER II. 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 

Shortly before 9.30 Rally wood presented himself 
at the granite palace, with its four cupolas, which 
M. Selpdorf occupied in his capacity of First Min- 
ister of State. After some slight delay he was 
ushered into a comfortable study, where he found 
Selpdorf with a reading-lamp at his elbow, glancing 
rapidly through a mass of papers that he threw one 
after another, with apparent carelessness, on the floor 
beside him. 

The chancellor of a small State might very well 
have been pardoned had he introduced a certain 
amount of what an old official used to call ‘desk 
dignity’ into his dealings with those who approached 
him, but Selpdorf habitually affected an easy manner 
and an easy chair. He was a middle-sized man, pos- 
sessed of a very round head, bald at the crown, but 
having still a lock of dark hair on the summit of his 
round forehead ; very round eyes set far back in 
smooth holes, showing little lid; a nose blunt and 
thick over lips that might have been coarse, but 
were controlled, and betrayed a lurking humour at 
the corners, to which the upstanding moustaches 
seemed to add point. For all his peculiarity of as- 
14 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. I 5 

pect, he was a man who left an impression on the 
memory of something pleasing and attractive, especi- 
ally in the minds of women. 

He received Rallywood with that air of deep per- 
sonal interest which told with such happy effect on 
those whom he desired to influence. 

‘Ah, my dear Lieutenant, I understood you were 
in Revonde, and took the advantage of your presence 
to put into effect a little plan which has been for some 
time in contemplation. I recollect having had the 
pleasure of meeting you not so long ago when you 
arrived in Maasau.’ 

‘Nearly six years ago, your Excellency,' replied 
Rallywood with a smile. 

‘I can scarcely believe it to be so long. At any 
rate I remember perfectly that I had the honour of 
presenting you to his Highness as the latest addition 
to our Frontier Cavalry.' 

‘Your Excellency might easily have forgotten. 
From the nature of the case that could not be pos- 
sible with me.' 

Selpdorf listened with a little astonishment. This 
Englishman was not quite such a fool as one might 
have expected from the fact of his having been con- 
tent to remain without preferment and only a pro- 
portion of his pay for over five years on the frontier. 
He had hoped to find the fellow adaptable, but this 
long-limbed, slow-spoken gentleman was not alto- 
gether so transparent an individuality as Selpdorf 
had led himself to expect. 


i6 


A MODERN MERCENARY 


‘But why have you secluded yourself for so long 
among those barbarous marshes and forests?’ de- 
manded the Chancellor in a rallying manner. The 
young man made no reply, though the obvious one 
was in his mind. 

‘By-the-by,’ resumed the Chancellor, as if struck 
by a new thought, T have heard that your country- 
man Major Counsellor has come to pay us a little 
visit in Maasau.’ 

‘He is here. I have just seen him,’ replied 
Rallywood. 

Selpdorf’s round eyes glanced once more at his 
companion. The simple directness of the reply was 
admirable but baffling. 

‘Ah, he is invaluable, the good Major, quite in- 
valuable ! England may well be proud of him. He 
is one of the ablest men in Europe, besides’ — here 
he smiled, showing a row of strong, even teeth — 
‘besides being one of the most honest. For a diplo- 
matist — what praise ! ’ 

Rallywood met his glance imperturbably. 

‘For a diplomatist, your Excellency ?’ he repeated. 

‘But assuredly,’ replied the Chancellor warmly: 
‘figure to yourself, my friend, the condition of poli- 
tics if all statesmen were like him — honest! An 
invaluable man I ’ 

He paused for a reply, but Rallywood merely 
bowed. He felt that so much at least was expected 
of him on the part of England. 

‘But now, monsieur, with regard to your own 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 1 7 

affair. You have been five years in the service of 
his Highness. And your command ?’ 

‘At present fifty troopers at the blockhouses above 
Kofn Ford and along the river. *In the winter, dur- 
ing the long dark nights, when there are many at- 
tempts to run illicit goods across the frontier, I shall 
have, perhaps, a score or so more.^ 

‘And you are not tired of it?’ M. Selpdorf 
raised his hands. 

‘So tired, your Excellency, that I am half inclined 
to let a better man step into my shoes.’ 

‘But come, come, that is impossible !’ returned his 
Excellency agreeably. ‘Are you also tired of our 
capital, of Revonde?’ 

‘I have had very little opportunity of growing 
tired of Revonde. I know nothing of it.’ 

‘But you would prefer Revonde, believe me.’ 

At this moment an attendant appeared with a 
card upon a salver. Selpdorf read the name with 
the faintest contraction of his brows. 

‘You will excuse me, M. Rallywood,’ he said; ‘I 
must ask you to wait in the ante-room for a few 
minutes.’ 

The ante-room was a long pillared corridor, in 
which Rallywood found himself quite alone. He 
fell at once into speculations as to the meaning and 
aim of Selpdorf’s late awakened interest in himself. 
Also the allusions to Counsellor had probably been 
made with calculated intention. 

Rallywood understood that each of these two men 


1 8 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

had the same end in view ; each desired to dissemble 
his own character. And each of them succeeded 
with the many, but failed as between themselves. 
Selpdorf posed as the suave, sympathetic, good-na- 
tured friend of those with whom he came in contact ; 
Counsellor, as a man of no account, a rugged soldier, 
honest, strong, outspoken, a good agent to act under 
the direction of more astute brains, but if left to his 
own resources somewhat blunt and blundering. 

To do Rally wood justice, he was far more occu- 
pied with this last thought than with the things 
which bore more directly on his own prospects and 
future. At this period his life was comparatively 
tasteless and void of interest ; there was nothing to 
look forward to, and the recent past meant extremes 
of heat and cold, long solitary rounds ridden by 
night, and days rendered so far alike by iron-handed 
rule and method that one was driven to mark the 
lapse of time by the seasons, not by the ordinary di- 
visions of weeks and months. 

As he lounged in a chair full of these thoughts a 
slight rustle, soft and silken, like the rustle of a 
woman’s dress, caught his ear. He turned his head 
quickly. The corridor with its splendid pillars, 
which stood at long intervals, was steeped in the 
clear electric light, and from where he sat he could 
see that there was no person visible throughout its 
entire length. 

Then as his gaze travelled back it rested on some- 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 1 9 

thing which had certainly not been lying where he 
now saw it at the time of his entrance. 

Not six paces behind him, stretched across the 
dark carpeting, in the very centre of the pillared 
vista, lay a woman’s long glove. 

A woman’s glove possesses a peculiar charm for 
all men. Perhaps it suggests some of the sweet 
mystery of womanhood. The first action of most 
young men in Rallywood’s place would have been to 
raise it at once and to examine it, as though in some 
impalpable manner it could tell something of its un- 
known wearer, who might turn out to be the Hathor, 
the one woman in the world. 

But the circumstances of Rallywood’s life, and 
perhaps also some exclusive element in his character, 
had heretofore set him rather apart from the influ- 
ence of women. He had grown to regard them 
without curiosity, which is the last stage indifference 
can reach. 

It must be admitted that it was with a feeling 
akin to repugnance that he at last lifted the long, 
soft, pale-hued, faintly-scented suMe from the floor 
and dangled it at an unnecessary distance from his 
eyes, holding it as he did so daintily between finger 
and thumb. Its subtle appeal to his senses as a man 
failed to reach him. It simply aroused an old feeling 
of reserve toward the sex it represented. His face 
altered slightly and he dropped it suddenly with an 
odd repulsion, as he might have dropped a snake, on 
a couch near by. 


20 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


Then he resumed his chair and turned his back 
upon it, till the reflection that the woman to whom 
it belonged must have come and gone while he sat 
thinking with his back to the corridor sent him 
wheeling round again. 

The glove still lay where he had placed it on the 
edge of the couch, palm upwards and with a sug- 
gestion of helplessness and pleading. It annoyed 
him unreasonably. He frowned and looked at his 
watch. Half an hour had passed since Selpdorf dis- 
missed him. 

At that moment a gutteral voice broke the silence 
of the house, and the heavy curtain over the door at 
the nearer end of the ante-room was thrust back by 
a brusque hand, and a tall, high-shouldered, hand- 
some man, dressed as if he were about to attend some 
Court function, stood in the opening. Behind him 
Rallywood caught sight of a flurried and explana- 
tory lackey. 

'Ah! so I have lost my way after all,’ said this 
personage in a bland voice. ‘A mistake! But I 
hope you will accord me your forgiveness, made- 
moiselle ?’ 

Rallywood sprang to his feet at this most unex- 
pected ending and looked round. 

Close beside him stood a tall girl wrapped in a long 
cloak of fur and amber velvet. She was singularly 
beautiful, with a pale, clear-hued beauty. Her black, 
long-lashed eyes were on him and they were full of 
laughter. 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 21 

‘Enter, then, Baron,’ said the girl, glancing across 
at the courtier. ‘Did you guess you would find me 
here, or were you seeking monsieur ?’ and she waved 
her bare left hand towards Rallywood. 

‘I lost my way, nothing more,’ returned the Baron, 
coming forward; but perhaps, as in my heart, all 

roads lead towards ’ He bowed deeply once 

more, this time stooping to kiss the girl’s hand with 
a certain show of restrained eagerness. 

She drew back with a little impatient gesture. 

‘I should not have been here, but for an accident,’ 
she replied coldly. ‘In fact I was on the point of 
starting for his Highness’s reception, had not mon- 
sieur detained me.’ And, to Rallywood’s amaze- 
ment, she indicated himself. 

Before he could speak she pointed to his spurred 
boot. 

‘Monsieur has set his heel on my poor glove,’ she 
added. 

By his hasty movement in rising he had apparently 
dislodged the glove from its position on the edge of 
the couch. He stooped with a hurried word of 
apology and picked it up. On the delicate palm was 
stamped the curved stain of his boot-heel. 

‘Do you always treat a lady’s glove so ?’ she asked 
gravely, and held out her hand for it. 

Rallywood looked down at her very deliberately, 
and something that was neither his will nor his 
reason decided the next action. He folded the soft 
suHe reverently together. 


22 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


‘No, mademoiselle,’ he answered, as he placed it 
inside his tunic, ‘1 have never before treated a lady’s 
glove — so. For the accident, I offer my deepest 
apologies.’ 

She watched him with raised eyebrows and a 
slight derisive smile. Then she drew the companion 
glove from her right hand, and giving it to the 
lackey, who still remained in the background, she 
said — 

‘Throw it away, it is useless, and tell Nanzelle to 
bring me another pair.’ 

‘Monsieur, with whom I have not yet the pleasure 
of being acquainted,’ interrupted the Baron rather 
suddenly, .‘monsieur is after all the lucky man. He 
retains what I dare not even ask for.’ 

‘Shall I call back the servant with its fellow for 
you?’ mademoiselle asked haughtily. ‘It is nothing 
to me who picks up what I have thrown away.’ 
With this rebuff to Rallywood she placed her hand 
upon the German’s, as if to ask him to lead her from 
the room, and added — 

‘You wish for an introduction? Then allow me 
to present you to each other. His excellency the 
Baron von Elmur.’ She paused, and her eyes dwelt 
for a moment on Rallywood’s. ‘A gentleman of the 
Guard.’ And before Rallywood could explain the 
mistake the curtain had dropped behind them and he 
was left standing alone. 

In Baron von Elmur he recognized the oblique 
carriage of the head and the high-shouldered figure 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 23 

of the third man he had seen with the newspaper cor- 
respondents in the Grand Square that afternoon. 
Moreover he knew that the German had entered the 
ante-room through no mistake, but with some object 
in view. As for the girl, who was she and where 
had she come from ? She was not of Maasau, since 
she had introduced him as belonging to the Guard, 
for not only was every officer of that favoured corps 
individually known, but it was further impossible for 
a Maasaun to make the slightest mistake with regard 
to any uniform. It was one of the boasts of the 
country that even a child could tell at a glance not 
only the special regiment, but the rank of the wearer 
of any uniform belonging to the Duchy. - > 

Rally wood had no time just then to pursue the 
subject further, as he was almost immediately re- 
called to the Chancellor’s presence. 

‘Now, monsieur,’ began Selpdorf, as though no 
break had occurred in the conversation, ‘you are in 
truth tired of keeping our dreary marches; is it 
not so?’ 

‘There are better places — and worse, your Excel- 
lency.’ 

‘Our gay little capital will be one of the better 
places, I promise you,’ continued the Chancellor. ‘A 
position in the Guard of his Highness has just be- 
come vacant. Am I right in believing that a nomi- 
nation to that superb regiment would tempt you to 
remain with us?’ 

Rallywood for once was a little taken aback. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


24 

‘A gentleman of the Guard.’ He repeated the 
girl’s words, of introduction mechanically; then, 
putting aside the thought of her, he took up the 
practical view of the situation and answered, ‘I am 
an Englishman, your Excellency, and though I have 
taken the soldier’s oath to the Maasaun standard I 
have not taken the oath of nationality. I could not 
consent to become a naturalised citizen even of the 
Duchy of Maasau.’ 

‘Ah, so?’ Selpdorf stroked his chin, then de- 
spatching the objection with a wave of his hand, he 
resumed, ‘We must overlook that in your case. You 
have already served the Duke for five years with as 
sincere zeal as the truest Maasaun amongst us. We 
must remember that and overlook a drawback which 
is far less important than it seems. 

He turned to a memorandum on the table and 
consulted it. 

‘You were engaged in the affair at Xanthal, I 
see?’ 

‘Three years ago, your Excellency,’ replied Rally- 
wood in a tone that implied his powers of usefulness 
had probably become impaired by lapse of time. 

Selpdorf moved his shoulders. Here was a man 
throwing difficulties in the way of his own advance- 
ment. Yet he could not possibly be so indifferent to 
his own interests as he chose to assume. 

‘To be plain with you,’ Selpdorf said with an air 
of candour, ‘the younger officers of the Guard have 
little experience. The latest fashion in neckties or 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD 25 

the most charming dancer at the Folie absorbs their 
attention, to the exclusion of more important mat- 
ters. There is, as you doubtless know, a certain 
admixture of French blood in the veins of our most 
noble families,’ he finished abstractedly. 

Rallywood had no remark to offer upon this. The 
officers of the Guard bore a very distinct reputation. 
They were said to be a very pleasant set of fellows 
socially, unless one ran foul of their prejudices, but 
they were credited with a good many prejudices. As 
for his personal acquaintance with them, it was lim- 
ited to acting as second in a hastily arranged duel 
fought out in the yard behind a little country railway 
station. 

T should like to see a somewhat different spirit 
introduced, and to be assured that I could always 
rely on the presence of at least one cool-headed 
officer at the Palace. Your experience on the fron- 
tier has eminently fitted you for the position. To 
you, therefore will be allotted the quarters reserved 
in the Palace itself for the adjutant of the Guard. 
May I have the pleasure of saluting you as such ?’ 

Rallywood hesitated. He foresaw certain diffi- 
culties, but they apppeared rather attractive than 
otherwise at the moment. He threw back his 
shoulders, a light of laughter came into his eyes, he 
raised his head and looked into Selpdorf’s face. 

T thank your Excellency.’ 

The Chancellor understood more than met the 
ear. He approached the subject delicately. 


26 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


‘Then you will allow me to congratulate you, 
Captain Rallywood,’ he said, bending forward to 
shake hands with his visitor in the English fashion. 
‘There may possibly be some trifling difficulties at 
the outset. The first step in any undertaking usually 
costs something, but you will not, I beg, permit your- 
self to be drawn into, — ahem, any shallow quarrels. 
Our friends of the Guard, you will understand, are 
a little prone to pick up even a careless word on the 
sword-point.’ 

M. Selpdorf paused, and referred once more to 
the memorandum. 

‘There has been some small hitch about the pay on 
the frontier of late ?’ he asked innocently. 

‘A serious hitch for the last eighteen months or 
so, your Excellency,’ replied Rallywood with a smile 
that did not reach his eyes. 

‘Indeed? That must be remedied. The pay- 
master-General shall have a note upon your affair 
immediately, Captain Rallywood. Good-night.’ 

Rallywood stepped out into the windy, frozen 
night, and also out of his old life into the new. 
Above him the stars, written in their vast, vague 
characters upon the night-blue vault of sky, shone 
with a keen lustre. Below his feet, with scarce a 
break in the great circle, it seemed as if they drew 
together in denser clusters and set themselves in 
luminous tiers. These latter were the lights of the 
city. For the Hotel du Chancelier stands high upon 
one of the twin ridges which form the ravine of the 


A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD. 27 

river, and upon whose converging slopes Revonde is 
built. Rallywood stood and looked down upon the 
dip and rise of the terraced city with a new interest, 
for now it held a future for him individually, a fu- 
ture which must be stirring and might be something 
more. 

The eyes of the girl whose glove he had trodden 
upon still challenged him from the starlit darkness, 
eyes made of starlit darkness themselves. He fol- 
lowed the broad black line of the river between its 
sweeping curves of lamps, broadening out seawards 
into hazy dimness. Then as a great bell across the 
water boomed out the hour he turned his gaze to the 
east, in the direction of the sound, to where the 
broken brightness of the crowding streets gave place 
to a majestic alignment of light and shadow, show- 
ing the position of the Ducal Palace upon the river 
bank. Behind and above it shone a blood-red gleam 
like an angry eye; this Rallywood knew to be the 
great stained dome of the historic mess-room of the 
Guard. 

Then the late lieutenant of the Frontier Cavalry 
laughed aloud in the dark, his blood tingled in his 
veins, for the priceless element of a vague, unknown 
danger and excitement had entered into his life. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 

Members of great families frequently regard them- 
selves as submerged individualities. They wilfully 
sink all identity of their own in the traditions handed 
down to them, and live as mere representatives of a 
line which bears in common a noble name. This 
principle, which has something to recommend it, was 
adopted long ago into the system of the Guard of 
Maasau, the officers of which were first gentlemen of 
the Guard and afterwards men in the private and 
ordinary sense of the term. There were eight of 
them — a colonel-in-chief, whose position became 
honorary after his elevation to that rank ; a colonel, 
upon whom devolved the active command; a second 
in command, whose title of over-captain may be 
translated major; three captains, and as many sub- 
alterns. And every individual was drawn from the 
noblest blood of the country. 

Thus it will be seen that Rallywood was about to 
enter the best company in Revonde. 

On a lofty cliff above the gorge from which the 
Kofn issues to curve round the Palace gardens, and 
exposed to the four winds of heaven, stands an im- 
posing square block of grey buildings. These con- 
28 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 29 

tain the permanent quarters of the Guard. One 
whole side of the courtyard within is taken up by the 
domed mess-room with its necessary adjuncts and 
offices. 

Here on the day following Rallywood’s interview 
with Selpdorf, three men lounged over their lunch. 
Any one of them, had he cared to take the regi- 
mental rolls from their brass-bound coffer in the 
ante-room, could have read his own name repeating 
itself down the columns as generation after genera- 
tion lived through its identical life in the same sur- 
roundings, and died, most of them going to the devil 
with a fine inherited pride and even gracefully. 

Nearly every man who had crossed the page of 
the Maasaun annals had dined in that historic room, 
and each one of the men who now held the right to 
dine there had a hereditary interest, and in many 
cases a hereditary characteristic, to maintain. There 
was old walrus-faced Wallenloup; thin, dark, reck- 
less Colendorp ; Adiron, whose great bulk behind a 
cavalry sword was a sight for the gods, and so on ; 
the three lieutenants following closely in the foot- 
steps of the three lieutenants who had been before 
them ; men who went to the rendezvous of a duel in 
all comfort, affecting to be infinitely more afraid of 
catching cold than of being killed; men who kissed 
•the wife and dispatched the husband with equal skill 
and as little noise as might be; men who were 
feared by a rough, swaggering, raucous soldiery, 
whom they only knew through the hard-faced ser- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


30 

geants; men, in fact, who lived out their debonair, 
picturesquely evil lives to the satisfaction of them- 
selves and of few others. 

On this occasion Colonel Wallenloup, the com- 
mandant, was not present. Of him it was told that 
while still a lieutenant he had been offered, as a re- 
ward for services rendered to the Crown, the com- 
mand of any Maasaun regiment he might choose to 
select, and he had replied that he would rather be a 
lieutenant of the Guard than a field-marshal else- 
where. And so he remained to favour the mess with 
his somewhat blood-and-iron jokes. The mess-room 
was a spacious hall, and though only three men sat 
at table the place seemed full of life and colour from 
the black polished flooring to the carved and vaulted 
ceiling, from which hung in tattered folds the old 
banners of the regiment. Red hangings partially 
draped the dark walls, and over all the light from the 
stained dome fell in rich colour; while through the 
talk of the men ran the one weird sound that never 
ceased about those walls, the whimpering of the 
wind. 

Suddenly the door opened, and a young man, 
small and thin, with a faint down upon his upper 
lip, entered quickly. 

^Unziar has won !’ he cried. 

'Won what?’ asked Adiron, the senior man pres- 
ent, as he poured out another glass of wine. 

'Won his second match against Abenfeldt with 
seven to spare.’ 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 3 1 

Adiron stretched his legs and leant back; his fig- 
ure was well adapted for leaning back. 

‘My good Adolph, explain yourself.’ 

‘Hadn’t you heard of it? Why, they arranged it 
last night at Countess Sagan’s.’ 

‘Abenfeldt fancies himself as a shot, but he forgot 
he had to do with Unziar,’ laughed Captain Adiron. 

‘Abenfeldt bet that he could shoot more swallows 
in half an hour before breakfast than any man in 
Revonde. That was in September, you know, and 
Unziar took him up — with ser\Tce revolvers — ^and 
shot fifteen, winning easily. Abenfeldt can’t get 
over it, and challenged him to a shooting-match 
again last night. I say,’ Adolph broke off, and his 
face altered ; he thrust out a little foot and sur\’eyed 
the spurred boot that covered it critically, ‘I’ve just 
ridden back from Brale. That new charger of mine 
bolted down the hill by the paling. I went to see 
Insermann; they had not been able to move him, 
you know.’ 

‘WeU,’ urged all three voices at once. 

‘Insermann’s dead. He died last night at dinner 
time.’ 

The men’s eyes shot for a second at Insermann’s 
empt>' place, which he was never to occupy again. 

‘Ah. I told him that scooping pass of his was a 
mistake, commented Adiron. ‘And the worst of it 
is that his death breaks the line of the Xanthal Inser- 
manns. Poor old Insermann ! he was the last of a 
good stock, and I, for one, don’t like new blood. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


32 

What have you to say about that pass now, 
Colendorp? If I am not mistaken, you defended it?’ 

‘Insermann was by three inches too tall,’ replied 
the individual addressed. ‘For a short man one 

would be hard put to it to discover a more useful 

Hullo!’ 

The folding doors had been flung open with a 
crash, and a man of fifty or thereabouts, dressed in 
the gorgeous green and gold of the Guard, strode in 
tempestuously. He was short and heavily built, 
with a weather-red face and a coarse, overhanging 
moustache, which gave him rather the expression of 
an angry walrus. So angry, indeed, was he that his 
words came volleying out inarticulately. In his 
hand he held a crumpled sheet of parchment. 

The men rose as he took his place at the head of 
the table. 

‘Insermann’s dead, and Selpdorf says ’ The 

Colonel’s choked ejaculations broke, his voice failed 
him, and he sent the paper fluttering from his hand 
across the silver and glass till little Adolf picked it 
up. In another moment Colonel Wallenloup was 
more coherent. 

‘I am afraid I must have walked up the hill rather 
too quickly,’ he said apologetically, after draining a 
great goblet of beer. ‘However, it is not to be 
denied that M. Selpdorf begins to take too much 
upon himself. The entire administration of the 
State is in his hands, and yet he is not satisfied with 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 33 

that position ! No, he aims even higher ; he desires 
to nominate the officers of his Highness’s Guard!’ 

Every man present had his own peculiarity. The 
Colonel’s reputation would not have stood so high as 
it actually did but for his insensate temper. Perhaps 
the anecdote told of him that, when discussing the 
point of having been ruled out of action during cer- 
tain army manoeuvres he became so enraged that 
he pursued the umpire in question with a wooden 
tent hammer, had added more to his popularity than 
all his thirty odd years of service and his immense 
genius for fortification. 

Some of the Continental armies are always mark- 
ing time, and they do not prize the most the man 
who marks time best, but the man who can bring 
some humour or touch of romance into the dulness 
of routine, and they prefer the humour to be led up to 
by the winding road of eccentricity. It was never 
dull with the Guard. They possessed officers who 
kept their world on the move. 

'Gentlemen,’ said Wallenloup at length, when his 
last remark had been received with approval T have 
the honour to inform you that M. Selpdorf has seen 
fit to appoint, vice Captain Insermann, deceased. 
Lieutenant John Rallywood, of the Frontier Cav- 
alry.’ 

A silence followed this announcement. 

'Upon whose recommendation has M. Selpdorf 
taken this step? inquired Captain Colendorp 
gravely. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


34 

‘Reasons of State — mere reasons of State. He 
had the audacity to tell me so.’ 

‘I understood, sir, that you had other views ?’ said 
Adiron. 

‘Well, yes, we had virtually agreed upon our 
choice, I may say, gentlemen.’ 

‘Certainly, sir. And you made that clear to the 
Chancellor ?’ 

‘I did so — perfectly clear. I told him in the most 
reasonable manner that we wanted no condemned 
rabble in the Maasaun Guard ! I told him that we 
had practically decided on Abenfeldt in case of a 
vacancy occurring. I even went so far as to remind 
him that there had been Abenfeldts among us for 
four centuries.’ 

‘He couldn’t meet that argument !’ exclaimed 
Adiron. 

‘No, he parried it, gracefully enough, I admit. 
He reminded me in turn that there had been Selp- 
dorfs also in the Guard, and swore that had he a son 
of his own to nominate he must still at this moment 
have given the preference to this Englishman. I left 
him to reconsider the matter, however, and rode 
home, to find that already waiting for me in my 
quarters,’ and he pointed to the parchment in Adolf’s 
hand. 

Adolf looked up with a smile. 

‘He will hot join immediately, sir, this Rally- 
wood ?’ he said with his gentle lisp. 

‘Not for a week.’ 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 35 

‘Then it doesn’t really matter, you know,’ added 
the young man. 

Wallenloup’s red-shot eyes gleamed upon him 
suddenly. 

‘As your commanding officer, sir, he said grimly, 

‘I don’t understand your meaning, but ’ and an 

odd smile flickered about the savage lips. 

‘As a private gentleman. Colonel ’ put in 

Colendorp. 

‘As a private individual I understand your mean- 
ing very well. But if I were here as your colonel. 
Lieutenant Adolf, by Heaven, sir, riot all the officers 
of the Guard, past or present’ — he rose to his feet as 
he spoke, and grasping the hilt of his sword glared 
round upon them — ‘should dare to hint at insult to 
a comrade!’ and he drove the blade home with a 
clatter into its scabbard and strode out of the room 
as he had come, like a thunderstorm. 

The men waited in silence until the echo of his 
footsteps died away, and in the mind of each rose a 
vivid memory. It happened, from causes which 
might in the case of the Guard of Maasau be called 
natural, that the three present lieutenants, viz. 
Unziar, Varanheim, and Adolf, had joined on the 
same day, and by way of supporting the traditions of 
their immediate predecessors each instantly agreed 
to challenge each of the others, the result of which 
would in all probability have been the speedy oc- 
currence of three fresh vacancies in the list of 
officers. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


36 

Wallenloup heard of this and sent for the lieu- 
tenants, whom he considered too valuable to be thus 
easily lost. 

'Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I am about to enforce an 
old order that expressly forbids quarrels amongst 
the members of our corps. If you want to fight, 
fight some one else. There are plenty of men who 
stand badly in need of being killed. Turn your at- 
tention to them. But if any trouble should arise be- 
tween any two of you, come to me. There has been 
enough of this kind of scandal about us lately, and 
therefore for the future we will do, the thing quietly 
with a pack of cards, or, if you prefer it, with dice. 
The man who loses can — go. There is the river, or 
for choice, his own pistol. You understand me?’ 

Varanheim looked at Unziar and Unziar looked 
at Adolf, and they smiled. 

T think,’ said little Adolf, 'we might find others to 
brawl with.’ 

'The river is abominably cold,’ added Unziar. 

'And the same dish is served for us all,’ concluded 
Varanheim. 

Wallenloup laughed. 

'I have laid the alternative before you, gentlemen,’ 
he said, 'the cards or the dice.’ 

This was the story that rose in the minds of the 
men round the mess table, and a minute later they 
joined in a simultaneous shout of laughter. Adiron’s 
big face was flushed as he called for a special brand 
of champagne wherein to drink the Colonel’s health. 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 37 

'He’s magnificent — the old man!’ he said when 
he could speak. ‘Let him alone. He’s equal to any 
mortal occasion I He reminds me of the day when 
his Imperial Majesty over the border complimented 
him on the appearance of the Guard, saying he 
should feel proud to number us amongst the regi- 
ments of the German army. “And I can assure your 
Majesty that the feeling of admiration is entirely 
reciprocal,” says the C. O. “We should be happy to 
incorporate your army in ours” !’ 

The men had heard the story often before, but it 
was greeted with all the relish of novelty, a quality 
which lives eternally in any anecdote that tells on 
one’s own side. 

Before the laughter had subsided another man 
entered the room. He was, perhaps, nearer thirty 
than twenty, and the face under his dull, colourless 
hair was singularly pale, but there was promise of 
great strength in the long angular body. 

‘My congratulations, Unziar.’ Colendorp turned 
to the new-comer. 

‘Thanks. By the way, have you heard of Inser- 
mann ? Gone out, they tell me.’ 

‘Yes. And have you heard of the new appoint- 
ment ?’ 

‘No. But it’s Abenfeldt, of course. The Colonel 
as good as promised him last year.’ 

‘Ever heard of Lieutenant Rallywood of the fron- 
tier?’ demanded Colendorp in his slow way. 

‘Yes, I do happen to know him.’ Unziar looked 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


38 

round in some surprise. ‘He was the frontier fellow 
who undertook to be my second at the station when 
I fought De Balsas because he insisted that our 
trains were inferior to those in Germany. Rally- 
wood — you don’t mean to say?’ a slow comprehen- 
sion dawning upon him. ‘But it’s impossible ! The 
fellow’s an Englishman. How could such a thing 
be possible? On the frontier, yes, but not in the 
Guard !’ 

Colendorp was a silent, reserved man, disliked 
by persons who met him casually in society, but to 
those who inhabited with him the quarters at the 
Palace he stood as the impersonation of the grim 
spirit of the Guard. He drew away from the table 
and crossed his legs. 

‘The idea has at length occurred to one man,’ he 
with his glance on Unziar’s pale face, ‘to M. Selp- 
dorf, in fact.’ 

Unziar looked back at his interlocutor, his eyes 
hardening. 

‘Of course,’ he said, bringing out each word dis- 
tinctly, ‘Rallywood must be got rid of.’ 

‘It will offend M. Selpdorf if his nominee be inter- 
fered with,’ went on Colendorp. 

‘I have already undertaken that little matter, put 
in Adolf eagerly. 

There was an undercurrent of meaning in all 
this of which each man present was fully aware. 
Unziar was presumed to have very strong private 
reasons to propitiate rather than to offend the power- 


THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD. 39 

ful Minister. But this happened to be a typical in- 
stance in which the interests of the corps over-rode 
those of the individual. Moreover the custom of the 
Guard required the individual most concerned to 
prove his loyalty at such times. 

Colendorp continued to gaze at Unziar. 

‘We are much obliged to you, Adolf,’ he said 
courteously; ‘but in compliment to his comrades I 
feel sure that Unziar will hardly wish to allow any 
other to undertake this special matter.’ 

Adolf would have spoken again, but Unziar 
stopped him. 

‘As a personal favour, Adolf, leave it to me,’ he 
said. 

Adiron, who had thus far taken no part in the 
discussion, now struck in. 

‘But remember, Unziar, that you must act with 
caution. For obvious reasons there must be no ap- 
parent design. The dispute, whatever it may turn 
upon, must appear to come about naturally. Above 
all, it must not take place here.’ 

‘Precautions from Adiron!’ remarked Colendorp 
with a thin smile. ‘The affair becomes serious in- 
deed!’ 

‘We cannot afford to offend England while Elmur 
is at work in this country. She is at this moment 
our very good friend,’ Adiron observed apologeti- 
cally. ‘There will be many public occasions — at the 
Palace ball, for example.’ 

‘You may trust me to keep up appearances,’ said 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


40 

Unziar. ‘Then it is understood that I arrange the 
affair of Captain Rallywood at the Palace ball if pos- 
sible. The matter may safely be left in my hands.' 

Once more the folding doors were thrown back, 
and between the crimson portieres appeared the face, 
of Colonel Wallenloup, charged with a strange ex- 
pression. He advanced a step or two into the room, 
then turned to introduce a man behind him. 

‘Captain Rallywood, gentlemen,' he said. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DANGER SIGNALS. 

A WEEK later Rallywood returned from the frontier 
to take up his appointment in the Guard. Advised 
by a note from Wallenloup that his quarters were 
not yet in readiness for him at the Palace, he drove 
direct to the Continental on his arrival in Revonde. 

Here presently Counsellor dropped in upon him. 
Rallywood was in his dressing-room, transforming 
himself as rapidly as possible into the likeness of an 
English gamekeeper; for a magnificent festivity in 
the shape of a masked ball was about to take place 
at the Palace. All the world had been invited, and 
as many of the world as could go were going, each 
with his or her own dream or purpose, as the case 
might be. 

Major Counsellor sat and surveyed his friend, 
occasionally offering suggestions and remarks. 

‘Are you aware that the Guard of Maasau never 
condescends to show itself in Revonde in any cos- 
tume but its own blazing uniform ? I see you have 
your edition of it lying on the chair over there. 
Why are you not conforming with their amiable 
peculiarities ?' 


41 


42 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Rallywood had his back to Counsellor at the mo- 
ment. 

‘So I have heard, but I do not join until to-mor- 
row,’ he replied in an expressionless voice. 

‘And your quarters in the Palace? How about 
them ?’ 

‘I shall also have the rooms to-morrow.’ Then he 
wheeled round and his eyes lit on his companion. 
‘Hullo! I didn’t notice you before. Is that your 
notion of the gentle art of masquerade ? What are 
you meant to be — a sort of Tommy Atkins ?’ 

‘I believed myself to be disguised as an officer 
and a gentleman,’ returned Counsellor, rising to give 
Rallywood the full effect of his sturdy figure, clad in 
the uncompromising scarlet so dear to his country’s 
heart. ‘This is the uniform of the 30th Dragoons 
as worn in or about the year of grace 1730.’ 

‘Your old regiment?’ 

Counsellor nodded. ‘And my grandfather’s/ 
adding, ‘What’s the matter with the dress?’ 

‘Nothing,’ said Rallywood, laughing. ‘Perhaps 
I imagined on an occasion of this kind you might 
possibly stoop to something more misleading than 
this blatantly British get-up.’ 

‘What were you expecting — a troubadour ? I am 
satisfied to appear in my own character. Only a pro- 
portion of the people wear masks at this ball ; it’s an 
annual affair. Besides, life with a purpose is too 
wearing; one must always be on the alert and have 
the purpose in view, like the actor in a sixpenny 


DANGER SIGNALS. 


43 

theatre, who plays up to the gallery and keeps his 
eye open for the rotten egg of his enemy. The egg 
may not be thrown, but he must be ready to dodge 
it all the same. And — I have never excelled in 
dodging.’ 

‘Ah — just what the Chancellor thinks. He says 
he has an immense admiration for you as the most 
honest diplomatist in Europe.’ 

‘He put himself to the trouble of mentioning that 
fact to you, did he? Then I shall take the precau- 
tion of insuring my life. Anything might happen 
to a man of whom he has so villainous an opinion. 

Rallywood was arranging his gaiters. 

‘Why? You don’t suppose Selpdorf is going to 
throw the egg? He spoke of you with absolute af- 
fection.’ 

‘My good John, he has already thrown it! Now 
I must harass myself to find out the reason,’ said 
Counsellor. ‘You have spoilt my evening out. Be- 
fore I had no purpose; now you have thrust one 
upon me. You should have kept your news until 
to-morrow.’ 

Rallywood was getting himself into his velveteen 
coat with a good deal of unnecessary violence. 

‘I don’t believe the Chancellor is so dangerous,’ 
he said carelessly. ‘He is a consummate actor, but 
one knows it.’ 

‘Yes,’ assented the Major thoughtfully; ‘yet the 
moment to watch him is the moment when he acts 
that he is acting. With the others of us acting is 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


44 

troublesome ; with him it is habitual and a pleasure. 
However, he has given you your company ; the rank 
is substantial, as far as it goes, and at least the ac- 
companying pay is not altogether visionary.' 

‘Yes, he’s done all that’ Rally wood was fling- 
ing some of his belongings back into his port- 
manteau. 

‘The next thing will be to find you a mission.’ 

‘He has done that also.’ Rallywood raised an 
expressive face. ‘I am to reform the Guard !’ 

Counsellor burst into a great laugh, but as sud- 
denly grew grave. 

‘They will take it kindly ! Their welcome to you 
is likely to be . . . interesting !’ 

‘So I expected. But I went down to the mess last 
week and was introduced by old Wallenloup. They 
were very civil.’ 

‘Ah ! and since you left they have been very silent. 
They are overdoing it — too civil and too silent. 
Looks bad, you know.’ 

‘Oh, that’s all right; Selpdorf told me not to be 
drawn into any shallow quarrels,’ Rallywood an- 
swered with a smile. 

But the Major did not take up the smile. The 
two vertical lines above his fleshy nose deepened. 

‘It strikes me, my boy, that you’ve got the devil 
by the tail this time,’ he said gruffly, as his eyes rested 
for a moment on Rallywood ; ‘but you know how to 
take care of yourself. Ready? We can drive to 
the Palace together. I have a carriage waiting.’ 


DANGER SIGNALS. 


45 

The couple proceeded downstairs, bought cigar- 
ettes of the waiter, and started. The wind was 
howling in its usual twanging cadences down the 
broad streets, increasing in force as they gained the 
open, lighted embankment of the river, along which 
they passed for some distance before reaching the 
courtyard of the Palace. 

The great entrance hall was still full of arrivals, 
while up the wide central staircase trooped masks 
and dominos in a changing kaleidoscope of form and 
colour. Eager heads thrust this way and that, 
picturesque figures grouping and greeting, cavaliers 
of all periods, maidens of all nations, monks, bar- 
barians, cardinals, queens, and clowns — sometimes 
the wisest heads under the most foolish caps — while 
here and there a few favoured paper-folk made desul- 
tory notes and sketches. 

The painted ceiling stretching overhead is one of 
the triumphs of Renaissance art. The identity of 
the master hand who achieved that marvellous work 
has been a mooted point in art circles for a couple of 
centuries or thereabouts, and quite a library on the 
subject exists. The Maasauns are very proud of 
their ceiling, prouder still of the controversy which 
has raged and still continues to rage around it. 

M. Selpdorf, as representing his master, stood at 
the head of the staircase, and received the guests with 
a good deal more politeness and discrimination than 
the Duke himself might have shown, for that person- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


46 

age was said to have an awkward habit of turning his 
back upon those whom he happened to dislike. 

Major Counsellor was greeted with effusion; 
Rallywood with raised eyebrows and a slight 
reserve. 

‘I had hoped to welcome the new captain of the 
Guard this evening,’ Selpdorf said in a low voice 
and with a significant glance at Rallywood’ s vel- 
veteens. 

‘I have not yet joined, your Excellency. To-mor- 
row I hope to have that honour,’ returned Rallywood 
and passed on into the gallery beyond. This gallery, 
opening from the head of the staircase, ran round the 
great saloon, which served the purpose of a ballroom, 
and many of the guests were amusing themselves by 
looking down over the silk-hung balustrade on the 
dancers below. 

In the gallery Counsellor paused to say a word 
here and there to several persons, who, like Rally- 
wood and himself, were without masks, but he 
seemed to have curiously little facility in penetrating 
disguises. Presently a burly old man in the glitter- 
ing green and gold of the Guard disengaged himself 
from the curtains at the back of the gallery, and 
nodding a supercilious acknowledgment of Rally- 
wood’s salute, brought his hand down with a rough 
heartiness on Counsellor’s shoulder. 

‘Back again in Maasau, Major Counsellor. I’m 
glad to see you !’ he said with the laugh in his small 
eyes marred by a wrinkle of suspicious cunning, an 


danger signals. 


47 

expression which seemed startling on what was at 
first sight a big, bluff, sensual face. ‘What good 
wind has blown you back among us ?’ 

‘Thanks, my lord;’ Counsellor turned with ready 
response. ‘I am glad to find that some of my old 
friends, especially Count Sagan, have not forgotten 
me,’ he said simply. 

‘We believed you had forgotten Maasau.’ 

‘Maasau will not allow herself to be forgotten!’ 
laughed Counsellor. ‘She is a coquette, and de- 
mands consideration from all the world.’ 

Sagan’s face changed. 

‘Yes, a coquette, who trifles with many admirers 
but who knows how to hold her own against them,’ 
he replied significantly. ‘Who is that?’ he added, 
staring after Rallywood. ‘I think I recognise him 
as an English lieutenant in the Frontier Cavalry.’ 

‘He is the same to-day,’ said Counsellor. 

‘What?’ exclaimed Sagan. ‘Why to-day? Has 
he, then, come in for one of your colossal fortunes ?’ 

‘Who can say?’ returned Counsellor. ‘A fortune 
or — a colossal misfortune. Ah! there is Madame 
Aspard. Au revoir. Count. 

Counsellor passed on, perfectly well aware of the 
heavy meaning attached to the wilful ignoring of 
Rallywood’s appointment to the Guard by its colonel- 
in-chief. There was certainly danger ahead. 


CHAPTER V. 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 

Meanwhile Rallywood had come to an anchor be- 
side one of the high embossed doors of gold and 
white which led from the gallery into various luxuri- 
ous withdrawing rooms. As he leant against 
the lintel a voice suddenly said in his ear, as it 
seemed — 

'My dear lady, why have such scruples? They 
are the most detestable things in life and the least 
profitable. They poison pleasure even when they 
do not altogether deprive us of it. And what does 
one gain by them ? Absolutely nothing, not so much 
as the good opinion of our friends, who can never 
be brought to believe we possess them,' said a man 
in a mocking tone. 

A distinctly uncomfortable sensation pervaded 
Rallywood’s mind for the second which preceded the 
reply. The voice was Baron von Elmur’s, and there 
was a note of admiration in it that he had reason to 
be acquainted with. 

A woman laughed, a light, provoking laugh, 
Rallywood, who was still held by the crush against 
the door, knew it well, but he breathed freely, for it 
was not the laugh he had feared to hear. 

48 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 49 

‘Nevertheless, Baron, I like scruples; they are 
always respectable, and therefore of use — some- 
times,’ the lady answered in a high, sweet tone. 

‘Your husband, my Lord Sagan, has not found 
them indispensable in his career.’ 

‘But he is not a woman !’ with a sigh. 

‘A beautiful woman can dispense with everything 
except — her beauty! That makes fools of us all! 
Besides ’ 

The rest of the sentence was lost, as Rallywood 
managed at length to force his way through the 
crowd, which was thickening rapidly. 

Then he came upon a group of men he knew, men 
from the frontier, from the marshes about Kofn 
Ford and the crags of Pulesco, men with tanned 
skins like his own, and the mark of the collar rim of 
their high military tunics round their throats. They 
were masked, and represented various original char- 
acters, and were enjoying themselves hugely. More 
than all were they astonished at being recognised so 
readily by Rallywood. Rallywood drew his finger 
round his throat by way of explanation. There was 
a general laugh, and the men scattered each to seek 
his own particular pleasure. Rallywood remained 
looking down on the dancers. There was in the 
back of his mind some desire to identify the lady 
whose glove was still in his possession. He fixed 
now on one tall domino, now on another, but without 
satisfaction. He was discontentedly coming to the 
point of knowing that he had made a fresh mistake, 


50 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


when he turned his head abruptly, with a vague sense 
of being looked at, and saw a black domino standing 
for an instant alone at the further end of the gallery. 
Even under the muffling silken folds he fancied he 
recognised the attitude of the girl he had met at the 
Chancellor’s. 

He at once began to make his way through the 
crowd in her direction, but when next he looked she 
was gone. He descended to the salon, where he 
danced with more than one masked lady. His six 
feet of stature marked him out from the shorter 
Maasauns, and the tall athletic figure of the game- 
keeper, who moved with so much of unexpected ease 
and grace, excited some attention. 

After an interval, as he stood back against the 
wall to allow a couple who had been following him 
to pass, they drew up in front of him. 

‘I obey you. Mademoiselle,’ said the man. 

His companion, who wore a black domino, made 
a gesture of dismissal ; then she turned to Rallywood. 
‘You have been looking for me?’ she said, as her late 
partner moved away. 

‘But naturally, Mademoiselle,’ replied Rallywood. 

‘You know who I am ?’ 

‘Not in the least. I cannot even make a guess, 
though I have been waiting to know since this day 
last week.’ 

‘It would have been easy to ask the question — 
of anyone,’ she said with an odd intonation. 

‘By no means. There are questions which cannot 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 5 I 

be asked— of anyone, because the answer touches too 
closely.’ Rally wood pulled himself up with a sud- 
den sense of being ridiculously in earnest. 

And then they were dancing. 

‘Yet you are not a stranger in Revonde. Madame 
de Sagan could have answered your question — had 
you cared to ask it,’ the girl said. 

‘It did not strike me to ask her. I trusted to the 
fact that, belonging to the Guard, I must some day 
have the good fortune to find you again.’ 

‘You are patient!’ 

‘No,’ returned Rallywood, ‘I am not patient. But 
I know that all things come to him who waits. I 
wait.’ 

‘So I see, excellently I’ 

‘Have I not waited long enough to hear your name 
first from your own lips ?’ 

‘Stop for a moment;’ then standing beside him, 
she continued, ‘Ask me to-morrow.’ 

‘If I am alive I will !’ he laughed. 

He felt her hand move with a quick tremor on his 
arm. 

‘I knew it ! Which of them has challenged you ? 
Unziar?’ The swift question, echoing his own 
thought, took him completely by surprise. 

He passed his arm round her, for the waltz was 
nearing its end. 

‘Shall we go on? No; no one has done me the 
honour of sending me a challenge.’ 

‘Let us have an end of this absurd mystery I’ said 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


52 

the girl impatiently. 'I am Valerie Selpdorf, and 
you are ' 

‘John Rally wood of the Guard of Maasau !’ he in- 
terposed. ‘I had my commission from you in the 
ante- room of the Hotel du Chancelier. But for that 
I should have been more than half inclined to re- 
fuse it.' 

‘I wish you had refused it! It may cost you — 
more than a man cares to pay. I thought my father 
held the power to give any commission he pleased, 
but one can never reckon with the Guard. They 
mean to kill you, Captain Rallywood I I wanted to 
warn you, but I think you know more, perhaps, than 
I can tell you or than you will tell me. What is 
going to happen? I want to help you — you must 
let me help you !' 

Rallywood laughed, but perhaps his arm drew 
her a little closer as they moved more slowly during 
the concluding bars of the waltz. 

‘My dear Mademoiselle, I assure you that your 
fears are quite groundless. I am proud to belong 
to the Guard of Maasau, and they have so far shown 
no intention of rejecting me. As for duels, if there 
happened to be one — are not affairs common in 
Maasau ? And afterwards, fewer funerals take place 
than one would suppose likely I Besides, M. 
Selpdorf's wishes cannot be lightly disregarded in 
Revonde.' 

‘You will be drawn into a quarrel before the night 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 53 

is over.’ Mademoiselle Selpdorf stated her convic- 
tion very plainly, without noticing his disclaimers. 

The music ceased. Rallywood spoke once more. 
‘To prove to you how little I anticipate anything of 
the sort, will you allow me to have the last dance on 
the programme ?’ 

‘That is nothing! What can I do for you?’ she 
exclaimed. 

‘Expect me I If you would promise to expect me, 
I don’t yet know the man who could stop my coming 
to you.’ 

The words were lightly spoken, but Valerie Selp- 
dorf, looking up into Rallywood’s eyes, understood 
that he was likely to be able to make any words of 
his good. They were handsome eyes, rather long in 
shape, frank and steady, the iris of a dense grey 
bordering on hazel as became the sunburnt yellow 
of his hair and moustache, and at that moment they 
contained an expression which remained in Valerie’s 
memory as the distinctive expression of his face. 
Whenever in the future she recalled Rallywood, she 
thought of him as he looked then. 

‘I will expect you,’ promised Valerie. 

They both knew that for the moment they stood 
together at one of those cross-roads where life and 
death meet, where moreover a look and a word con- 
vey a mutual revelation of character such as years 
of ordinary intercourse often fail to supply. 

Rallywood did not dance again ; he contented him- 
self with following the movements of the black 


54 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

domino. After a time she joined a little group of 
people with whom she stood talking. One of the 
group presently detached himself and glanced round 
as if searching for some one. It was Unziar of the 
Guard. He quickly perceived Rallywood and at 
once came towards him. 

‘Allow me to recall myself to your memory, Cap- 
tain Rallywood ; I am Unziar of the Guard,' he said 
bowing, both voice and bow touching that extreme 
of punctiliousness which in itself constitutes an 
insolence. 

‘The Guard are said to have long memories. I 
hope in that particular, at least, if in no other, to sup- 
port their traditions,' replied Rallywood, with an air 
of cool and serene indifference said to be impossible 
to any but men of his race. 

‘That is — something,' rejoined Unziar with a 
smile that belied its name. ‘We are somewhat 
exigeant in the Guard. We ask for more than a 
long memory — a long pedigree, for example, and a 
long sword.' 

T have heard that also.' 

Unziar glanced sharply at him out of his pale keen 
eyes. The fellow was too non-committal to please 
his taste. To hound a coward out of the corps 
promised infinitely less difficulty and enjoyment than 
he had hoped for when he pledged himself to rid the 
Guard of the Englishman. For perhaps the only 
time in his life he wished he wore any uniform but 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 55 

the tell-tale green and gold, for he knew of the Guard 
that it was often their ‘great name that conquered.’ 

Spurred by this thought he looked Rallywood very 
straightly in the face, and the gleam of his eyes re- 
minded the Englishman of glacier ice. 

‘Knowing so many of our peculiarities, perhaps 
Captain Rallywood may no longer care to join us?’ 
said the Guardsman. 

Rallywood laughed with absolute good-humour. 

‘I both care and — dare !’ he said pleasantly. 

Unziar’s face cleared. 

‘I am forgetting my errand,’ he said with a slight 
change of tone. ‘1 have been sent by a lady to bring 
you to her. Will you follow me?’ 

As they approached the group, the shorter of the 
two black dominoes spoke. 

‘You need not trouble to introduce Captain Rally- 
wood, Anthony. We are already friends; are we 
not. Monsieur?’ 

The sweet high voice and the inconsequent childish 
laugh came upon Rallywood with a slight shock. 

‘I could hardly have dared to claim so much,’ he 
said ; ‘but I cannot forget that Madame de Sagan — ’ 

She laid her hand with a suspicion of caressing 
familiarity on his arm. 

‘Hush, then! Do you not know that it is in- 
admissible to mention the name of a masked lady 
until the clock strikes midnight? Captain Rally- 
wood has been stationed near the Castle at Kofn 
Ford; we have therefore met — occasionally,’ con- 


5 6 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

tinned the lady, addressing herself to Mademoiselle 
Selpdorf. 

‘Captain Rallywood is luckier than most of us,' in- 
terposed another voice. ‘He seems to have an 
enviable facility for appearing where we others in 
vain wish to be. Only last week ’ 

A tall Mephistopheles in scarlet silk, whose high 
shoulders lent him added height, had joined them. 
His peaked cap and feather sparkled with lurid 
points of fire. Countess Sagan turned upon him. 

‘But, Baron, where is then your domino? It is 
not yet midnight,’ she exclaimed, her hand still re- 
maining on Rallywood’s arm. 

‘Listen !’ von Elmur raised his hand. ‘The happy 
moment arrives when the beautiful faces we long to 

see ’ He gave the rest of the sentence to the ear 

of Mademoiselle Selpdorf, who stood silently look- 
ing on at the little scene. 

At this instant the music broke off with a sudden 
clang; the dancers paused where they stood, as the 
great bell of the palace tower sent its strong, mellow 
boom of midnight out over the frost-bound city. 

Rallywood, on looking round an instant later, saw 
that masks and dominoes had disappeared. Oppo- 
site to him stood Valerie Selpdorf in a dress of some 
deep velvety shade, which bore, wrought upon its 
texture here and there, tiny horseshoes embossed in 
iridescent jewels. A diadem of the same shape 
crowned her dark hair. Yet all the richness and 
delicacy of the blended colourings struck Rallywood 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 57 

with only one odd remembrance — his own boot-heel 
outlined in Revonde mud upon a long suHe glove. 
The same association apparently occurred to Baron 
von Elmur. His glance fled from Valerie to Rally- 
wood, and he smiled with some malice. 

‘What have we here, Mademoiselle? The stamp 
of some idealised cavalry charger?’ he asked. ‘I 
should be eternally grateful if only I were — of the 
cavalry !’ 

A sudden intense expression, like a spasm of hope 
or happiness, crossed Unziar’s pale face in a flash. 
A word sprang almost involuntarily from his lips. 

‘The Guard ’ But the girl cut him remorse- 

lessly short. 

‘I do not idealise either the Guard’ — she paused, 
then went on without taking her eyes from Elmur’s 
face — ‘or the cavalry. One has illusions, doubtless, 
but none so entirely absurd! I have idealised my 
own desire merely. I want good luck. I am “Good 
Luck !” ’ She spoke the last two words in English, 
smiling back at Elmur. 

The Baron bowed. He was not beaten yet. 

‘That is well,’ he exclaimed; ‘since the cavalry and 
Guard are disowned, it means that the good luck is 
for the poor diplomat 1’ 

‘Provisionally, yes,’ said the girl. 

‘Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already given this 
waltz to me,’ said Unziar, stepping forward. 

But Mademoiselle Selpdorf placed her hand within 
the Baron’s ready arm. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


58 

'Later, Anthony,’ she answered. 'His Excellency 
deserves a consolation prize, since my reading of 
"Good Luck” is not in the German language.’ 

She turned away, and with her the group parted 
and scattered. 

'You are very much interested ; is it not so ?’ 

Rallywood started. The Countess spoke petu- 
lantly. 

‘Do you not know,’ she added, 'that the custom in 
Revonde holds you to the partner with whom you 
find yourself when midnight rings? Valerie Selp- 
dorf is embarrassed with partners — my cousin 
Anthony Unziar, who desires perhaps herself, but 
most certainly her fortune, and our delightful Ger- 
man Minister, who uses all means that come to hand 
to win Maasau for his master ! But I should not say 
these foolish things to you, who are of the other 
party.’ 

They were dancing by this time, her head near 
his shoulder, her voice soft in his bending ear. 

'Of the other party?’ he repeated. 'I flattered 
myself that you said something else just now.’ 

'Yes, a friend; but I made a mistake — I have none 
— no, not one true friend !’ the voice said passionately 
in his ear, 'and my husband ’ 

Rallywood almost lifted her clear of some crowd- 
ing couples, and then gently released her. In a 
vague way he felt the force of her appealing beauty 
as he had felt it intermittently for some months past. 
It touched him for the moment, but he was apt to 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 59 

forget both it and the very existence of the woman 
herself directly he parted from her. 

‘Count Sagan is colonel-in-chief of the Guard?' 
he asked, and the question seemed to fit in with her 
train of thought. 

She made no immediate response, but with a light 
touch on his arm led him to a flower-banked apart- 
ment, about which a few couples were scattered in 
various convenient nooks. She sank upon a seques- 
tered settee, and made room for him beside her. 

‘Yes, he is colonel-in-chief of the Guard because 
they think him too old to act any longer as its real 
commandant. He was the first soldier in Maasau 
and the most unequalled sportsman. He was all 
these things, and I am proud of them! But look 
at me I’ 

She rose languidly and stood before him. Rally- 
wood saw a slight woman, tall and exquisitely fair, 
who carried her small head with its gleaming coronet 
royally. Her skin and her soft flushed cheeks had 
the pure, evanescent quality of a child’s complexion. 
Moreover, her chief charm was perhaps her air of 
child-like innocence. Isolde of Sagan had seldom 
looked more lovely; she was honestly touched by 
self-pity, and was posing as the proud yet disillu- 
sioned wife of a man hopelessly older than herself, 
and for the time being she believed earnestly in that 
view of her lot. 

‘All these things have been,’ she added softly, her 
eyes filling with tears, ‘but I am! Can I ever be 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


6o 

satisfied with what only was?’ Rallywood’s face 
altered. Like any other man in such a position he 
felt immensely sorry for her. She saw the advan- 
tage she had gained, and at once the coquette awoke 
in her. 

‘Captain Rallywood,’ she sank down beside him 
again, ‘I need a friend in whom I can trust, who will 
ask nothing of me, but who will give me all the 
things I most want.’ 

The interpretation of this enigmatical speech was 
left to the ear, for the young Countess was gazing at 
her big black fan, where luminous fireflies hung 
tangled amongst the dusky feathers. Quickly with 
some dissatisfaction she became aware that Rally- 
wood was not looking at her — as he should have 
been doing — but staring in front of him with a grave 
expression. Well, she knew she could make him 
look at her as she desired — yet. It was but a matter 
of time. 

T think you may count upon me,’ said Rallywood 
at last. He believed in her, which was good ; more- 
over, he meant what he said; yet the speech was 
wholly lacking in the flavour which to the Countess 
Sagan was the flavour of life. 

'After all, it is little to promise, and I may not 
need your friendship for very long,’ she replied, 
plucking a glittering firefly from her fan and laying 
it on his sleeve with her sweet light laugh. 'Like a 
firefly I shall dance out my short night, and die 
quickly before life grows stale !’ 


GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY. 6 1 

Rallywood took out his cigarette case of Alfaun 
leather-work, and dropped the firefly with its sparkle 
of diamond-dust into it. 

‘I don’t like to hear you say that,’ he said in his 
quiet way, which the listener decided might mean so 
much or so little. 'We must all go out some time, I 
suppose, but one always wants the beautiful things 
to live for ever. . . . Meanwhile, can you spare 
me another dance?’ 


CHAPTER VL 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 

The night was drawing to a close. The long sup- 
per room was almost deserted. Amongst the linger- 
ers were a few officers in the uniform of the Guard, 
who stood talking together in one corner. 

‘The fellow has given you no chance/ Adolf was 
saying gloomily. 

‘Have him in here! Kick him in here, if neces- 
sary!’ said Colendorp. 

‘I don’t think you will find him reluctant, drawled 
Unziar. ‘I have spoken with him already this even- 
ing, and I — ah — rather liked what he said.’ 

‘Then why haven’t you arranged it? To-morrow 
he joins — and he must never be permitted to join the 
Guard! We might have asked Abenfeldt to remove 
him, but the Guard has up to the present day been 
able to set its own house in order,’ added Colendorp 
with a sour glance at Unziar. ‘Has his Excellency 
the Chancellor thrown out too powerful a hint about 
the fellow? — I saw Mademoiselle dancing with him 
this evening — I mean a hint too powerful to be dis- 
regarded by those who wish to retain the good opin- 
ion of M. Selpdorf !’ 

Unziar scowled. 


62 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 63 

‘I permit no one — not one of my own regiment — 
to insult me/ he rejoined with a white blaze of anger 
on his pale face, and the wine in his hand trembled. 

Adolf suddenly stretched across to take up a 
decanter, and catching the glass with the edge of his 
heavy epaulet, knocked it from Unziar’s fingers. 

‘We are losing sight of the main question,’ he 
said. ‘May I suggest, sir,’ to Colendorp, who hap- 
pened to be the captain of his own squadron, ‘that it 
is unusual to be obliged to act so carefully as we have 
been advised to do in this case ?’ 

Colendorp’s dark face grew darker, but the honour 
of the Guard over-rode all personal considerations. 

‘I have been hasty, Unziar,’ he said in a stifled 
voice after a slight pause. 

Unziar bowed and continued as if the interlude 
with its covert allusions had not taken place. 

‘It has been difficult to get at Rallywood this even- 
ing. Yet let us see how he shoots before we con- 
clude that he has any rooted objection to handling 
a pistol. I agree with Captain Colendorp, that the 
affair should be brought off to-night. I will go and 
find the Englishman.’ 

He had already walked towards the broad arched 
doorway, when among the palms and the hangings 
which shrouded it two men appeared. One was 
Counsellor, in his blazing red uniform, beside him 
Rallywood’s tall figure, clad in soft brown tones of 
velveteen, looked almost black. 

Behind them again appeared other faces. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


64 

Rallywood took in the meaning of the situation 
at a glance. Without any perceptible pause he held 
out his hand to Counsellor. 

‘Well, good-bye, Major, since you are going. I 
will turn up to-morrow as early as I can,’ he said. 

Counsellor understood also. In his position it 
was impossible to do anything for Rallywood. As 
an agent secretly accredited by the Court of St. 
James’s, he must hold aloof and neutral in all per- 
sonal quarrels. He appreciated the tact with which 
Rallywood dismissed him from a scene which prom- 
ised to be distinctly awkward, but his hand itched 
to shoot down the flower of the Guard of Maasau for 
the insolence that dared to doubt the worthiness of 
an Englishman of birth to hold a place among them. 

‘Good-bye, Rallywood,’ he said gruffly, and turned 
on his heel to find himself face to face with Baron 
von Elmur and one or two officers of the Frontier 
Cavalry. 

‘There is about to be a storm. Major, observed 
Elmur, passing Counsellor with a cool nod. 

‘So it seems. A storm in a teacup!’ retorted the 
Major derisively. 

Meanwhile Rallywood, with the men of the Cav- 
alry, his old brother-officers, behind him, advanced 
to meet Unziar. 

‘We of the Guard are hoping to break glasses with 
you gentlemen of the Cavalry before the night is 
over,’ began Unziar, alluding to a fashion amongst 
the military contingent in Maasau of taking wine 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 65 

together and breaking the glasses afterwards as a 
sign of unalterable good feeling and mutual loyalty. 
Unziar included Rallywood with the two officers 
beside him in this invitation, by a slight inclination 
of the head. 

The three men accepted, but there was a little 
stiffening in the attitude of each, for Rallywood had 
friends here who were resolved, if only for the 
honour of the Frontier Corps, to see their late com- 
rade through the coming trouble. 

Before the wine filled the glasses, Adolf was 
already deep in the story of Unziar’s shooting-match 
with Abenfeldt. 

‘Allow me the honour of drinking with you. Mon- 
sieur,' said Colendorp to Rallywood. ‘It was in 
truth a notable performance ; we have never had even 
in the Guard a surer shot than Unziar,’ he added, 
alluding to the anecdote. 

Rallywood had just time to make up his mind and 
determine upon his course of action. 

The glasses clinked together, and then clashed 
upon the floor, where the men set their heels upon 
them. Then Rallywood turned to Unziar : 

‘I complimept you. Lieutenant Unziar,’ he said. 
‘I already knew that you were a swordsman not 
easily to be matched; since, in fact, the little affair 
at Alfau, when I had the pleasure of acting as your 
second. But the pistol is, I venture to say, another 
matter.’ 


66 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Unziar set his shoulders back with an indescrib- 
able suggestion of scornful defiance. 

'May I ask you to state precisely what you mean, 
Monsieur ?’ he answered. 

'I mean that although a man may shoot any num- 
ber of swallows of a morning before breakfast, it 
does not follow that he can hit a man at, say, twenty 
paces.’ Rally wood spoke deliberately. 

The whole group of men listened in silence. Then 
Unziar leant towards Rallywood with a smile. 

'We can but try. Captain Rallywood,’ he said 
gently. 

Although everyone in their immediate neighbour- 
hood was listening, from the other side of the hall 
they looked, no doubt, like a group of tall men en- 
gaged in the ordinary conversation and common 
amenities of society, the only noticeable difference 
being that Unziar was a little more deprecating and 
low-voiced than usual. Elmur, standing near by, 
filled his glass and drank, with a silent nod at Unziar. 

'I shall be delighted to assist you in settling the 
question,’ returned Rallywood; then, consulting his 
card, he added, 'I find I have an engagement for the 
last dance, some twenty minutes hence. May I 
recommend the interval to your consideration?’ 

The two frontier men stepped forward simultane- 
ously to offer their services to Rallywood. He 
thanked them, and was about to accept, when Cap- 
tain Adiron interposed. 

'If either of these gentlemen will resign in my 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 67 

favour I shall feel it an obligation, as I can then offer 
myself to Captain Rallywood as one of his seconds.’ 

Courtesy demanded that Rallywood and his 
friends should fall in with this proposal, and Rally- 
wood, replying to Adiron, added : 

‘You have heard exactly what passed between 
Lieutenant Unziar and myself, and I am sure I can- 
not do better than leave the matter in your hands in 
conjunction with my friend, Colonel Jenard.’ 

Colendorp and Adolf, as representing Unziar, ac- 
companied Rallywood’ s seconds to make the neces- 
sary arrangements. Meanwhile, Rallywood strolled 
back to the gallery above the ballroom, and looked 
down at the dancers. He could not see Valerie, but 
he remembered Selpdorf and his injunctions to avoid 
a quarrel, and smiled as he thought over the words, 
since the Chancellor must have been perfectly aware 
that he had pushed an unwelcome foreigner into a 
position that could only be held by force of arms, 
even in the case of a Maasaun candidate of noble 
blood. At that moment he saw his own position 
clearly. He knew himself to be an unconsidered 
unit in the big game of diplomacy that was being 
played over his head, and he remembered that the 
day of human sacrifices is not yet, as many suppose, 
quite a thing of the past. The gods are changed, or 
called by other names, and the high priest no longer 
dips his hands in the actual blood of the victim ; but 
the whole deadly drama goes on repeating itself as 
it always must while the generations of men have 


68 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


their being under various modifications of the 
primeval system of the strong hand. That his life 
might be deliberately requisitioned by Selpdorf to 
forward some secret policy of his own was by no 
means an impossible supposition. Rallywood 
glanced at the clock. In another quarter of an hour 
he must either be dancing with Valerie Selpdorf or 
lying dead in the famous Cloister of St. Anthony, 
which overlooked the river, and where many another 
man had died under much the same circumstances. 

Rallywood laughed again and turned on his heel. 
At that period it did not seem to matter greatly 
which way it ended, but he was going to carry the 
undertaking through with what credit his wits af- 
forded him. 

In the meantime the Cloister of St. Anthony had 
been lit up from end to end with a brilliant light, and 
while the other two seconds went to fetch their re- 
spective principals to the spot, Adiron and Adolf ex- 
changed a word or two as they waited. 

‘The Englishman took it very well,' remarked 
Adiron. 

‘Devilish well,’ lisped little Adolf ; ‘he made rather 
a favour, of it just to satisfy Unziar, you know! 
He’s too sure of himself, this Rallywood. If he 
kills Unziar, which is unlikely, I shall have to finish 
the affair myself I’ with a frowning importance that 
sent Adiron into one of his ready roars of laughter. 

The Cloister was still echoing with the sound when 
Rallywood, accompanied by Jenard, arrived from the 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 69 

Other side of the palace, where the state rooms were 
situated. On the way Jenard explained to Rally- 
wood that the procedure decided upon as being best 
suited to the requirements of the case was simply 
alternate shots at twenty paces. 

Rally wood and Unziar being placed, one of the 
men sent a coin spinning up into the air. Then fol- 
lowed a long minute of silence. 

St. Anthony’s Cloister looks inward towards a 
quadrangle; the outer side bordering the river has 
been glazed in, but in the interval of waiting Rally- 
wood could hear the water plashing and sobbing 
against the foundations of the old walls, and the wild 
sound of the tsa, sweeping down from the snowy 
frontier above Kofn Ford, as it wailed and howled 
drearily along the dark waters. He almost started 
when Adiron, approaching him, said : 

‘You have won the first shot. Captain Rallywood.’ 

‘Then I am afraid I must beg of you to do me the 
great favour of rearranging the affair,’ replied Rally- 
wood ; ‘for if I should be unfortunate enough to kill 
Lieutenant Unziar, or even to disable him, the ques- 
tion at issue between us must remain undecided for 
at the best an indefinite time, and possibly for ever. 
If you recollect, the matter over which he was pleased 
to differ with me was my expressed opinion that 
though a good shot may bring down swallows to per- 
fection, he might miss a man at a moderate distance.’ 

‘You have won the toss,’ remonstrated Adiron. 

‘Yes, unluckily. But I feel sure that Lieutenant 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


70 

CJnziar will be kind enough not to hold me to that, 
since it is evident that the first shot should be his.’ 

Adiron grinned. It was his way of showing 
many mixed emotions. 

like your way of conducting a dispute, Captain 
Rallywood,’ he said ; ‘but as your second I must warn 
you that it is the worst luck in the world to refuse 
luck. You have won the toss. In declining to 
profit by it you are paying court to death.’ 

Rallywood shrugged his shoulders. 

‘I may prove my point,’ he retorted, smiling. 

‘As for that, it might be decided on a different 
basis later on,’ urged Adiron. 

For the second time that night Rallywood looked 
at his watch. 

‘I have an engagement in seven minutes,’ he said. 
‘I shall be glad if you will convey my meaning to 
Lieutenant Unziar.’ 

‘As you like,’ said Adiron ; ‘but in case of accident 
I should like to take the opportunity of saying to you 
now, that in the whole range of my experience I 
have never derived more pleasure from the attitude 
of a principal than I have on this occasion from 
yours.’ 

Adiron concluded with a bow and recrossed to the 
other second. Since the Englishman was deter- 
mined to go to his grave in so excellent and gallant 
a fashion, by heaven, it was Victor St. Just 
Adiron who would escort him to its brink with all 
the honours of a fine and hereditary courtesy! He 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 7 I 

was a man quite capable of losing himself in a cause; 
therefore, as he approached the other seconds, he 
came as a partisan of Rallywood's, resolved that his 
man should have his will in spite of all or any opposi- 
tion. 

‘My principal,’ he began, ‘has just pointed out that 
this meeting is rather in the nature of the justifica- 
tion of an opinion than a quarrel in the ordinary 
sense;’ then, repeating Rallywood’s contention, he 
added, ‘You will see that it remains for Lieutenant 
Unziar to prove himself in the right.’ 

Colendorp threw out a bitter oath, Adolf objected 
softly, and Jenard stood silent and in dismay. What 
could Rally wood mean by throwing away his life? 
But Adiron backed up Rallywood ; he was going to 
bring this thing to pass ! Rallywood should have a 
last satisfaction in this life, because he was worthy 
of it. 

‘If Lieutenant Unziar chooses to withdraw his 
opinion,’ he said, ‘of course Captain Rallywood will 
not go any further into the matter. For the rest, he 
has an appointment in less than seven minutes. On 
his behalf I can but insist that his suggestion affords 
the only possible way out of the difficulty.’ 

Reluctantly the other men yielded. Rallywood 
had gained a moral advantage. If he were destined 
to die, he would die in a manner that would go down 
into the history of the Guard. Hastily and in ac- 
cordance with the request of Rallywood, the change 
of procedure was explained to Unziar. 


72 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

The two opponents stood absolutely still, Rally- 
wood’s face wearing the expression of one who is 
politely interested in something that is happening to 
somebody else. 

At the signal Unziar raised his pistol and fired. 

Rallywood stood in his place for some thirty sec- 
onds, while there was a sound of splintering glass as 
the bullet rushed out into the darkness above the 
river ; then he advanced smiling. 

Tt seems,’ he said, 'that I was right’ 

Unziar stared at him. 

Rallywood handed his pistol to Jenard,and bowing 
to the assembled men ceremoniously, he went on : 

T hope we may consider the affair concluded, and 
as I am engaged for the dance that is about to begin, 
I trust you will excuse me.’ 

And with another bow he was gone. No one 
spoke for a little while, then Unziar walked towards 
the others with no very pleasant face. That Rally- 
wood had done a thing above reproach, and in a 
manner above reproach, made it none the easier for 
his pride to accept the result. But he was above all 
considerations and before all considerations true to 
himself — to Anthony Unziar. 

'Captain Rallywood has made his point and a repu- 
tation, he said at last. 'I think, Colendorp, you will 
agree with me that as men of honour we must con- 
sider the matter ended.’ 

'And in Captain Rallywood’s favour?’ asked Co- 
lendorp suddenly. 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 73 

'Certainly. What do you say, gentlemen?’ 
Adiron spoke with warmth. 

‘I suppose we must concede that it was neatly 
done, and that Captain Rallywood deserves his suc- 
cess,' agreed Adolf with some constraint. 

Unziar’s generosity rose to the occasion. 

'Our gain in the Guard is your loss in the Cavalry, 
Colonel Jenard,’ he said handsomely. 

Jenard acknowledged the implied compliment, and 
went off leaving the three Guardsmen together. 

'We shall have to swallow the Englishman after 
all,’ said Colendorp blackly. 'How came you to 
miss him, Unziar ?’ 

Unziar raised his eyebrows. 

'Who can tell? Luck, I suppose,’ replied he. 
‘But I, for one, am not sorry. The man’s worth 
keeping. 

'He shapes well,’ commented Adolf. 'But how 
will the chief take it ?’ 

'I am going to find the Colonel and tell him what 
has happened,’ said Unziar. 'I don’t know how you 
fellows feel about it, but I say for myself that the 
Guard might have done a good deal worse.’ 

Colonel Wallenloup was at that moment engaged 
in promenading the ballroom with Valerie Selpdorf 
on his arm. She belonged to that sufficiently rare 
type of girl whose society is sought and enjoyed by 
those older men who, as a rule, are content to stand 
by and watch the current of younger life sweep by 
them, men who are in no sense gallants, but who find 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


74 

a strong attraction in talking to a young and clever 
woman on all kinds of subjects that too often lie out- 
side the domain of the thoughts of youth. Youth, 
engrossed in the problem of self, persistently ignores 
those far more varied and profound problems to be 
found hidden in more experienced hearts and lives. 

Wallenloup, who distrusted all women and was 
accordingly disliked by not a few, always claimed a 
waltz with Valerie whenever he had the good fortune 
to meet her. To him she was a woman worth talk- 
ing to first, and a pretty girl afterwards. 

Their dance having concluded, Wallenloup walked 
down the room with his partner, continuing his 
monologue. Valerie had been very silent, but the 
Colonel had more to say than usual, and his subject 
happened to be a very scathing condemnation of out- 
side interference with the affairs of the Guard. 
Valerie listened without words. Perhaps her heart 
beat more quickly, and there may have been more 
anxiety in her mind as to the final upshot of the case 
in point than her companion could have guessed. 
But she showed a flattering amount of interest in his 
opinion, although she was well aware that the ques- 
tion was probably being settled once for all, as far as 
Rallywood was concerned, in St. Anthony’s Cloister, 
without the help of Colonel Wallenloup. 

Suddenly she leant a little more heavily on his arm. 

'My dear Mademoiselle, what is the matter?’ ex- 
claimed the Colonel. ‘You are pale. What is it?’ 

‘I am tired, and the saloon has become so hot, but 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 75 

— thanks, I see my next partner coming,’ she an- 
swered as Rally wood came towards them. 

Wallenloup looked down at her with some re- 
proach. 

‘This fellow?’ he said. 

‘But why not ?’ she replied with a little smile. ‘Is 
he not one of the Guard ? Can I aspire to anything 
higher. 

‘Captain Rallywood is not yet of the Guard !’ said 
the old soldier ; then he bowed coldly and turned on 
his heel, without giving any symptom of having 
recognized Rallywood beyond his scornful words. 

‘I have come, Mademoiselle,’ said Rallywood. 

The girl’s pale cheeks were now touched with a 
delicate carmine, such as shines between the fingers 
of a hand held up against a light. The flush seemed 
to heighten and enhance her beauty, or rather it lent 
her a novel kindling charm that struck home upon 
Rallywood’s mood. 

‘What have you been doing?’ she asked with in- 
terest. 

‘Breaking glasses with the Guard,’ he replied. 

‘That ceremony occasionally includes the use of a 
sword or a pistol.’ 

‘I have used neither,’ he replied. 

‘Are you then also a diplomatist ?’ she asked with 
quick scorn. 

Rallywood pulled his moustache. He did not pre- 
tend to understand women, but that Mademoiselle 
Selpdorf should now despise him for escaping a d^n- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


76 

ger she had half an hour ago trembled over and 
prayed to avert, seemed at best rather inconsistent. 

‘I have attempted to be diplomatic now and then, 
perhaps,’ he said, 'but not always with conspicuous 
success.’ 

‘Diplomacy was never meant,’ she said, looking 
frowningly at him through her black lashes, ‘never 
meant to be a private virtue. Its only excuse lies in 
a national necessity.’ 

‘M. Selpdorf instructed me to avoid a quarrel,’ 
rejoined Rally wood. 

‘What do you suppose he meant,’ she asked bit- 
terly, ‘knowing you had to deal with the Guard ?’ 

‘Ah!’ and a slow smile dawned in his eyes; ‘now 
I wonder what he meant knowing I had to deal with 
the Guard ?’ 

Valerie frowned again; her words were not par- 
ticularly expedient under the circumstances, but she 
disliked having them flung back at her. 

‘I beg your pardon. Of course I know nothing 
of — of these things. The matter concerns you only. 
But I thought, and I am sorry for the mistake, that 
you looked like a man I’ 

There was a jingle of spurs behind her as she was 
about to turn away, and Colonel Wallenloup strode 
up hurriedly. 

‘Captain Rallywood, why are you not wearing the 
uniform of your regiment — of the Guard ?’ he asked 
in a loud tone. 


THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY. 77 

There was a stir amongst the people about them; 
many stopped and drew nearer to hear the end of 
this unprecedented conversation. 

‘Because I intend to resign my commission to- 
morrow, sir,’ replied Rallywood haughtily. 

‘On the part of the Guard, I beg of you to recon- 
sider that decision,’ urged Wallenloup. 

He shook hands gravely with the young man, then 
detaching a star of gun-metal from his breast, he 
awkwardly attempted to fasten it to the lapel of 
Rallywood’s coat. ‘I see you have not the star of the 
Guard. May I give you mine? Unziar, see to this ; 
I cannot attach it.’ 

‘No, Colonel Wallenloup; that should rather be 
my duty,’ said the Countess Sagan, who happened to 
be standing by. 

Wallenloup grunted. 

‘As the wife of our colonel-in-chief, madame, I 
feel sure your kindness will be appreciated,’ he said 
grimly. 

Madame de Sagan’s blue eyes glanced up into 
Rallywood’s face as her fingers touched his breast. 

‘No, as your friend,’ she said softly. 

Then all at once Rallywood discovered how nu- 
merous were his friends and well-wishers in Maasau. 
He was overwhelmed with congratulations and in- 
troductions, but the memory of that night which 
lingered longest with him was the tall figure of 
Valerie Selpdorf standing aside and looking coldly 


78 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

on. She expressed no pleasure at the turn events 
had taken, she offered no congratulations, but she 
met Unziar with what was only too plainly a mock- 
ing comment on the little scene, and the next moment 
was floating down the long room in the young Maas- 
aun’s arms to the music of the last waltz. 


CHAPTER VII. 


ONE WOMAN^’S DIPLOMACY. 

There are men who though conspicuously in the 
world are never of it. Counsellor was one of these. 
He gave the impression of being a spectator; one 
who looked on at the play of common ambitions and 
intrigues with an amused and impersonal interest. 
He was drawn into no quarrels. Those who hated 
him most continued to shake hands with him, and 
none could accuse him of being a partisan. Yet he 
was rather truculent than meek, entirely ready to 
give his opinion, often with a surprising frankness, 
but maintaining throughout the complex relations of 
his life a superb reserve that formed a defence behind 
which neither favour nor enmity could penetrate. 

He stayed on at Revonde, though the tsa con- 
tinued to blow relentlessly. Affairs were yet in a 
chaotic condition and he lingered grumblingly at the 
club, declaring it was too cold to travel, and ap- 
parently finding his chief relaxation in privately 
deriding Rallywood for the favours which Revonde 
society was thrusting so lavishly upon him. 

In the untiring whirl and tangle of court life and 
gaiety Rallywood lived and moved with a growing 
enjoyment that half surprised himself, and for which 
79 


8o 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


he accounted on the score of change from the dull 
drudgery of the frontier. His acceptance by the 
Guard had been thorough ; even the colonel-in-chief, 
Count Sagan, whose strongest point was not cour- 
tesy, had given him a pronounced recognition. The 
pretty Countess demanded a good deal of his atten- 
tion and attendance, and this fact brought down 
upon him some of Counsellor’s most scathing jeers. 

‘Gallantries are in vogue, my boy, and you are 
qualifying for a high place amongst the Maasauns, 
he said. ‘She is a deuced pretty woman. I offer 
you my compliments.’ 

‘She is pretty,’ replied Rallywood, ‘but there are 
a good many people in Maasau who think her hand- 
somer than I do.’ 

‘Yet you tell me that you are again on your way 
to her house this evening. Can’t you get through 
the day without a glimpse of her ?’ 

‘Does it seem so bad as all that ?” asked Rallywood 
reflectively. ‘Yes, I suppose I like going there; yet 
as I have said before, there are a good many people 
who appreciate her more than I do.’ 

‘Then what in the world takes you there ?’ 

An odd expression grew slowly into the young 
man’s face. 

‘Because of the other people, I suppose,’ he re- 
peated dreamily. 

‘As for instance ?’ 

Rallywood woke up from his thoughts and shook 
himself. 


ONE WOMAN^S DIPLOMACY. 8 1 

‘Unziar/ he returned with a grin. 

Counsellor opened the stove and threw in the 
remnant of his cigar. 

'Ah!’ he commented significantly; 'and I pre- 
sume Unziar goes there to meet you. I begin to 
see.’ 

Rallywood laughed. 

‘I’m hanged if I do! By the way, the Countess 
wants of all things to make a friend of you. She 
says the English are so reliable. But you are such 
an old bear the women can’t get at you. 

‘So much the better for me,’ was the grim reply. 
‘Also I am sorry that I can’t reciprocate the Coun- 
tess’s opinion of me. There are very few reliable 
women. If I had ever found one I might have mar- 
ried her.’ 

‘That is a hard saying. Major. You’ve been un- 
lucky. That’s where it hurts with you !” 

‘No, I’ve no personal feeling in the matter. I 
share the opinion in common with many wise men. 
Let me refer you to Solomon, the census of whose 
harem warrants us in believing that what he didn’t 
know about women wasn’t worth knowing. Yet he 
records as his experience, “One man among a thou- 
sand have I found; but a woman among all these 
have I not found.” ’ 

‘I bet he didn’t! You can’t sample a delicate 
quality in the bulk,’ retorted Rallywood, and was 
already at the door when an idea stopped him. ‘Look 
here. Major; come with me and revise your verdict.’ 


82 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


To his surprise Counsellor stood up and asked 
one more question. 

‘Countess Isolde invited me ?’ 

‘Any number of times, as you know.’ 

‘The more fool she,’ growled Counsellor ; ‘I’ll go.’ 

The cotillon, danced with its hundred absurdities, 
was as fashionable at Revonde as elsewhere. Coun- 
sellor, like a courtly bear, was induced to join in its 
whimsical vagaries. 

The details of the cotillon obtaining at that per- 
iod do not concern us here. It is sufficient to say 
that, as a result of some evolution, by chance or by 
choice Counsellor found himself with the Countess 
on a raised dais at one end of the room, while Made- 
moiselle Selpdorf and Rallywood formed the cor- 
responding couple at the other end. Between them 
the dance proceeded, thus leaving the respective 
couples virtually isolated for a few minutes. 

‘ It was delightful of you to come to our little par- 
ty to-night,’ the Countess was saying to her compan- 
ion. ‘Now that you have come to see me here, can I 
not induce you to come also to Sagan next week? 
We are going out there for a few days. Do think 
of it’ 

‘ You are too kind, my dear madame, but an old 
man like myself may be out of place.’ 

The Countess sighed a little. 

Of course you are not at all old,’ she said, shak- 
ing her head at him, ‘ though you are fond of playing 
the part. But if you want to be old you can be old 


ONE WOMAN^S DIPLOMACY. 83 

in good company at the Castle, for the Duke will be 
there — you know he is a cousin of ours.’ 

Counsellor looked back into the smiling blue eyes. 
Most men would have succumbed to their innocent 
flattery. To the Major they only suggested an in- 
finite capacity for foolishness. 

‘Don’t you think we could exchange our Duke 
for another, a more interesting one ?’ she added, mis- 
led perhaps by his look. ‘ Duke Gustave is so 
wrapped up in his stupid gambling, and altogether 

there are many things ’ her speech tailed off in- 

consequently into a confused silence. 

‘Wanting? Certainly! For example, we have 
no Duchess,’ said Counsellor gallantly. ‘We need a 
pretty Duchess. But is it not possible that Maasau 
may yet boast the most adorable Duchess in Eu- 
rope ?’ 

Countess Isolde started and flushed like a pleased 
child, and her eyes lit up as she laid her fan on Coun- 
sellor’s stout knee with a confidential impulsive ges- 
ture. 

‘ But England does not like the idea of pretty 
Duchesses ? ’ she ventured reproachfully. ‘And 
you are only a flatterer after all !’ 

The Major raised his bushy white eyebrows. 

‘ Have I that reputation ? ’ 

‘ No, they say you are terribly frank ; ’ then a de- 
sign to sound this difficult and usually unapproach- 
able diplomat came into her irrational head. Older 
men than he had been vanquished by her beauty ere 


84 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

now. 'England has not yet recognized my hus- 
band’s claim as next heir,’ she whispered. ‘Major 
Counsellor, do you think your nation could ever be 
brought to recognize me as Duchess ?’ 

‘If the occasion arose,’ answered the wily old sol- 
dier softly, ‘I do not see — speaking as a man — how 
any request of yours could be refused. But I can- 
not answer for my nation. Still, if the occasion 

arose ’ he hesitated as if searching for words, 

but in reality, waiting for his companion to take up 
the unfinished sentence. 

The Countess trembled with excitement. This 
was indeed a triumph. She, ‘silly Isolde,’ as old 
Sagan was ever ready to call her, had gained a little 
bit of information they would give their ears to pos- 
sess, but she would keep it and use it at her leisure. 
Meanwhile she must strike while the iron of old 
Counsellor’s nature was yet hot. 

‘But the occasion will arise, believe me ! Perhaps 
soon, at Sagan !’ As she spoke she started violently, 
and her face turned white as Count Sagan stood be- 
fore them. 

‘Do you feel inclined for a hand of whist. Coun- 
sellor?’ he said abruptly, with a wrathful, question- 
ing glance at his wife. ‘Has my wife been boring 
you with her chatter?’ 

‘On the contrary, Major Counsellor has promised 
to join us at the Castle next week,’ exclaimed his 
wife. 

Sagan’s bloodshot eyes darkened. He had the 


ONE WOMAN^S DIPLOMACY. 85 

guile of a plotter, but lacked something of the self- 
control. Counsellor, who appeared to be watching 
the dancers, turned upon this and added : 

‘And I have been thanking Madame de Sagan for 
the invitation.' , 

‘Ah, I knew you wouldn't come! Well, you will 
lose nothing. We shall have a houseful of fools,' 
interrupted the Count roughly. 

‘I have already accepted, and will with your 
permission, Count, be one of the fools,' replied Coun- 
sellor genially. 

The Countess understood she had in some way 
put her foot in it, but as the two men walked away 
together she nodded complacently to herself, with 
the words, ‘I know what I know !' 

The tide of dancers still swept backwards and for- 
wards as Madame de Sagan idly observed them, un- 
til her glance chanced to fall upon the opposite couple 
at the further end of the saloon. Something in Val- 
erie's air fixed her wandering attention at once with 
a little shock. What was Rallywood saying to her ? 
And where was Anthony Unziar ? The Countess Is- 
olde had to the full the all-devouring vanity of her 
type, but now, for once in her life, she felt desirous 
of forwarding a love affair that was not her own. 

‘You are going to Sagan, of course?' Valerie 
had said to her partner as they stood together. 

‘I think not,' Rallywood replied. 

‘I thought you would be sure to be in attendance' 
— she glanced carelessly towards the dais where the 


86 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


Countess was at the moment laying her fan on Coun- 
sellor’s knee — ‘as usual.’ 

‘No, Unziar is the lucky man,’ Rallywood ans- 
wered without significance in his tone. 

‘Nonsense! Anthony is her cousin!’ said the girl 
impatiently. 

Rallywood’s grey eyes were on her face. 

‘Whose cousin? What do you mean?’ he asked 
innocently. 

Valerie bit her lip. She hated this Englishman. 
Of all her acquaintances he alone, in his blundering 
way, was able to put her somehow at a disadvantage. 

‘When the Duke goes to Sagan,’ she said, without 
noticing his question, ‘the Count has the privilege 
as colonel-in-chief of the Guard, of inviting any two 
officers he pleases to act with the escort. So we 
shall see.’ 

‘I wonder,’ said Rallywood after a pause, ‘where 
you get your impressions from. Mademoiselle?’ 

‘I see — like other people. We all form our judg- 
ments on what we see and — know !’ 

‘What do you know, for instance?’ 

‘I heard of you when you were at Kofn Ford, near 
the Castle of Sagan,'' she answered. 

Rallywood was only human, and however mode- 
rately he may have returned Madame de Sagan’s 
preference, he was fully aware of its existence. In 
those days on the frontier he had, rather from fas- 
tidiousness than principle perhaps, avoided her and 
her invitations whenever possible. But that was 


ONE woman's diplomacy. 87 

one thing; it was another to hear the matter coolly 
alluded to by the girl beside him. Involuntarily he 
drew a little away from her. His notions were 
founded less on actual knowledge and experience of 
women — for of that he had little — than gathered 
from that idealized version of the sex with which the 
right-minded male animal is usually furnished by his 
own mental and emotional processes. So far his in- 
tercourse with Isolde of Sagan had been limited to 
certain sentimental passages; the initiative lay with 
the lady, but Rallywood had once or twice been dis- 
tinctly wrought upon by the appeals to his sympathy 
and pity. Now, however, looked at from a fresh 
standpoint, the one in fact from which Valerie 
viewed it, the subject became suddenly repellent, and 
he slid away from the discussion with another ques- 
tion. 

‘What has Unziar been saying of me? You have 
treated me differently since — that night.’ 

There appeared to be no need to particularize the 
night. 

Mademoiselle Selpdorf understood both the first 
involuntary movement and the change of subject, 
and resented them equally. 

‘Anthony is generous, so generous !’ she said with 
some warmth. ‘I suppose it is an English trait to 
take everything and to give nothing in return. An- 
thony told me of all that took place in the Cloister of 
St. Anthony. Your action seemed to him so fine, 
poor fellow ! — but not to me. You believed in your 


88 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


luck, of course, and took the hazard and won, leaving 
him hopelessly at a disadvantage. I should not have 
accepted the position as he did — I should have forced 
you to fight it out sooner or later! I had rather a 
hundred times have died by your bullet than lived 
to endure your triumph !’ 

Rallywood pondered this view of the matter be- 
fore he spoke. 

‘I dare say you are right,’ he said at last ; ‘at least, 
no woman could have been so generous to another 
woman as he was to me.’ 

‘You are complimentary. Captain Rallywood!’ 

‘I beg your pardon. I only meant that women are 
not generous as between themselves. Looked at 
from your point of view, I see that I was wrong 
about that affair with Unziar. But more than all, 
it proves he is a splendid fellow.’ 

Now Unziar’s praise from Rallywood’s lips dis- 
pleased Mademoiselle Selpdorf almost more than all 
which had gone before. 

‘It is easy to say these things, but’ — she rose eag- 
erly — ‘at last that figure is ended. What a stupid 
interval it has been !’ she added with a little smile. 

‘I am sorry. I always have the misfortune to 
bore you,’ Rallywood said, accepting his snub 
meekly. 

‘Never mind! You can’t help it!’ she responded 
with a pleasant nod as she left him. 

Rallywood remained standing where he was. 

‘A very nasty one indeed for me. I shoudn’t 


ONE woman's diplomacy. 89 

wonder, though, if she forgave me for the sake of 
that last back-handed blow I’ he reflected with some 
amusement. 

Which proves that Revonde was teaching Rally- 
wood something that has its own value at one period 
or another of a man’s life. He was too poor to 
dream of marrying anyone, much less the daughter 
of the Chancellor of Maasau, a woman whose train- 
ing and tastes had not been guided on the lines of 
simplicity or economy. That Valerie Selpdorf at- 
tracted him was a truth to which his eyes began to 
be opened at the moment when Counsellor asked 
him why he haunted Madame de Sagan’s entertain- 
ments. Then it had struck him that the almost cer- 
tain chance of meeting Valerie was his chief motive, 
yet he believed it was safe to divulge to himself, since 
the girl bitterly disliked him, and he, in the strength 
of the insular and Puritan side of his nature, disap- 
proved of her. It was the pleasure of the hour, no 
one looked beyond that in Revonde,' and Rallywood 
had fallen into the universal habit of drifting. 

‘You are thoughtful. What can you have been 
talking about ?’ asked the Countess, coming up. 

‘Mademoiselle Selpdorf has been giving her opin- 
ion of me. It is not flattering, and I am depressed,’ 
returned Rallywood, hoping the Countess meant to 
talk of Valerie. 

‘Has she? She is often absurd in her ideas. But 
we need not talk of her. To turn to something 


90 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

pleasanter, do you know that I have just persuaded 
Major Counsellor to come to us at Sagan?’ 

Rallywood instantly perceived that the three or 
four days at the old frontier castle might prove to 
be a singularly interesting period, and regretted that 
he was not to be a guest also. 

‘And you are coming too, are you not?’ went on 
Madame de Sagan, with a note in her voice that 
Rallywood was learning to dread. 

‘I fancy not. Unziar and Adiron have been men- 
tioned.’ 

‘Yes, Anthony Unziar, because he is my cousin 
and for the sake of Valerie. Also Captain Colen- 
dorp. I do not like him, he is always black and 
sneering, but the Count chose him yesterday, and 
then I suggested yourself. They were rather doubt- 
ful about you, but Baron von Elmur consented. 
And I was so glad — Jack !’ 

The friendship had been progressing, it will be 
perceived, during the last three weeks. But Rally- 
wood made no immediate response, being absorbed 
in digesting the information she had given him. 
That the German minister should be permitted to 
dictate the guests for the three days’ festivities at 
the Castle was in itself a pregnant fact. But fur- 
ther, the Germans had never before possessed old 
Sagan’s confidence; his dislike of the encroaching 
mammoth, whom the whole little nation feared, was 
notorious. This new departure was therefore omi- 
nous. 


ONE WOMAN^S DIPLOMACY. 9 1 

*1 had no notion that Baron von Elmur liked me 
any better than my countrymen,’ said Rallywood 
aloud. 

‘Ah, no, perhaps not; but now, you will under- 
stand, he wishes to please me!’ Countess Isolde an- 
swered with an air of mysterious importance. 

‘He is not alone in wishing to do that,’ returned 
Rallywood, ashamed even as he uttered it of the 
meaningless compliment. 

‘Jack,’ she said, with a proud raising of her blonde 
head, ‘you are my friend, and of course you wish to 
please me. But everyone will want to stand well 
with me some day — when I have power — and then 
you shall see what I will do for those whom I wish 
to please!’ 

Every word she spoke added to the certainty that 
some new plot was afoot, and Rallywood glanced 
round for Counsellor’s stout figure. 

‘You are glad to come to Sagan?’ persisted his 
companion; ‘say you are glad.’ 

‘I’ve never been more glad of anything in my 
life!’ Rallywood replied with truth, and then, his 
good angel rather than his mother wit coming to his 
rescue, he got away from the dancing-salon, and 
found Counsellor at the entrance preparing to leave.’ 

‘I’ll walk round with you. Major,’ he proposed. 

‘I’m not going your way,’ replied Counsellor. 
‘Besides, I wish to drive. Hullo, you have got 
hold of my gloves!’ and snatching at the gloves — 
which happened to be Rallywood’s — he thrust his 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


92 

own into the young man’s hand, saying in a low 
voice as he did so, ‘Be on the Cloister Bridge in half 
an hour. Good-night!’ 

At the appointed time, Rallywood, having re- 
placed his military greatcoat by one less remarkable, 
was waiting on the bridge, when he was accosted by 
a hunchbacked fellow in a shabby Maasaun sheep- 
skin, who dropped a rough English ‘Good-night,’ as 
he passed. Presently Rallywood followed him until 
they came out into an open country road where the 
biting tsa met them full face. 

‘This tsa is deadly ! Quick ! what is it you have 
to tell me?’ said Counsellor’s voice. 

Rallywood answered in a few rapid sentences. 

‘Yes, I fancied something of the kind was due. 
What an inestimable blessing it is that such women 
as the Countess Sagan exist — to satisfy diplomatic 
curiosity! We must find out the precise limits of 
the German game at the Castle of Sagan. It is 
lucky for you, John, my son, that your duty as a 
Maasaun soldier to the Maasaun nation and as an 
Englishman to your own, run in this instance on the 
same lines.’ 

‘They always will.’ 

‘Don’t be too sure of that! There may come a 
day when your public and your private honour will 
stand face to face, hopelessly irreconcilable. What 
then ?’ 

‘When anything so extremely awkward comes to 
pass, I suppose I shall have to make up my mind on 


ONE woman's diplomacy. 93 

the subject,’ replied Rally wood with a lazy yawn. 
^In the meantime it is too much trouble. Just at 
present my part is simple, and I look for the game 
to turn in our favour.’ 

Counsellor stood still, as if in consideration, for 
a minute. 

‘The stake may seem to be a small one — just this 
useless scrap of country,’ he said at length, ‘but the 
issues are far-reaching, and therefore all Europe is 
taking a hand in the game. How will it end? I 
don’t know ! The Fates shuffle and men handle the 
cards, but God cuts! Thirty years’ experience has 
taught me that. I didn’t belive it once — I do now.’ 


CHAPTER VIIL 


A QUESTION OF THE GUARD. 

The really great strategist is not the man who 
loves an intricate plot. His method is simple, he 
eliminates. 

On a certain cold morning, when the sun shone 
pinkly through a sea-haze over the glittering roofs 
of Revonde, a review of the Guard, and of a few 
regiments that happened to be stationed within a 
short distance of the capital, was to be held, in honour 
of the Duke’s birthday, on the spacious parade ground 
of the Guard, which occupied the whole of a small 
plateau lying high between the beetling hills behind 
the barracks. 

Baron von Elmur paid an early visit to the Chan- 
cellor on his way to the review, and found M. Selp- 
dorf, though brisk and urbane as ever, a little diffi- 
cult. 

‘We do not progress. Monsieur,’ Elmur was say- 
ing. 

‘What would you, my dear Baron? we have so 
many obstacles in our path,’ answered the other, 
shrugging his shoulders good-humoredly. 

Elmur leaned his elbow on the table. 

‘I know that delay can conduce to no good end,’ 
94 


A QUESTION OF THE OUARD. 95 

he said. ^You have agreed that a certain course is 
desirable no less for your country than mine.’ 

‘Have I agreed to that proposition? Not alto- 
gether! Remember, I cannot be expected to see 
with German eyes.’ 

‘Even to the most patriotic Maasaun it must be 
evident that sooner or later the State must fall to us ; 
it is merely a question of time.’ 

‘The time has already been long,’ said the Chan- 
cellor softly. 

‘For an excellent reason : because we have not al- 
ways been as now, a huge bulk. The bulk of the 
new Empire must by force of gravitation attract all 
the smaller bodies round to itself. It is by a mira- 
cle only that Maasau has stood alone so long.’ 

‘And by another miracle she might go on stand- 
ing alone a little longer.’ 

‘This is not the age of miracles, my friend !’ 

‘I remember also something which your Excel- 
lency forgets,’ said Selpdorf, with a touch of sad- 
ness in his voice, ‘that there have been Selpdorfs 
helping in this miracle of the independence of Maa- 
sau for generations.’ 

Elmur altered his attitude with an open impa- 
tience. 

‘You are a far-sighted patriot. Monsieur. It is 
needless to repeat that if Maasau joins the confed- 
eration of the Empire by her own act she will do so 
on very different terms to any which could possibly 
be conceded to a state that had forced upon us the 


g6 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

unpleasant necessity of coercion. Remember Frank- 
furt ! She paid for her obstinacy. Whereas we are 
prepared to deal generously towards those who cast 
in their lot with ours. Besides/ he added signifi- 
cantly, am urging you to consult not only the in- 
terests of Maasau, but your own also.’ 

‘They are the same, and it is difficult to know 
where our true interest lies,’ said Selpdorf, thought- 
fully. ‘Do you go to the Castle of Sagan next 
week ?’ 

The abrupt change of subject seemed to have its 
effect upon Elmur. He turned away from the ta- 
ble, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette in a leisurely 
manner before he answered. 

‘Yes; and you. Monsieur?’ 

‘I have no inclination for these gaieties; but my 
daughter goes.' Von Elmur shot a glance at his 
companion. 

‘To repeat my own words — we do not progress, 
my dear Selpdorf.’ 

‘So? Women finesse in these affairs. Valerie 
follows the custom of her sex, and perhaps she has 
become a little spoilt by overmuch admiration. Were 
she aware of your wishes, it would solve many of 
the present doubts.’ 

‘It takes two to make that especial kind of bar- 
gain,’ said Elmur, with a curious smile, ‘one to ask, 
the other to grant. I am prepared to ask when I 
am assured that my request will be favourably re- 
ceived. An ambassador is esteemed in just tlie 


A QUESTION OF THE GUARD. 97 

same degree as the country he represents. If his 
country triumph he triumphs also.’ 

‘In this case I might point out that your personal 
success/ the Chancellor said airily, ‘would be the 
best, shall I say the only possible, preliminary to 
the success of the mission with which his Imperial 
Majesty has charged you.’ 

Elmur drew in his lips slightly. Valerie, as the 
Baroness von Elmur, was to be her father’s guaran- 
tee for the future! Although Elmur’s desires lay 
in the same direction, Selpdorf’s insistence was most 
unpalatable to the German minister. 

‘I am ready to lay myself at Mademoiselle’s feet,’ 
he said aloud, ‘but there is always the picturesque 
young captain of the Guard.’ 

‘Unziar? I can positively reassure your Excel- 
lency on that point.’ 

‘Unziar? No! The Englishman — Rallywood.’ 

‘Rallywood?’ said the Chancellor in very real sur- 
prise, ‘what of him ?’ 

‘Nothing beyond the fact that he has an aptitude 
for challenging fate. Such men dazzle the eyes, and 
are consequently apt to be dangerous. Why has he 
been placed in the Guard ?’ 

‘I placed him there to serve our mutual conven- 
ience,’ replied Selpdorf. ‘He is an Englishman, 
with his full share of English intolerance and cour- 
age. On the other hand, the Guard resent the in- 
trusion of foreigners, neither are they — mild-man- 
nered,’ 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


98 

Elmur considered. 

‘The chances were in favour of trouble certainly. 
Had there been trouble Rallywood might have dis- 
posed of some of our chief difficulties for us/ he re- 
marked, with a cynical smile. 

‘He might also have been disposed of himself,^ 
said Selpdorf, ‘and he is the one human being for 
whom the good Counsellor has the slightest regard. 
In politics it is necessary to consider the personal 
equation. To touch Counsellor in his weakest point 
would have been to alienate England at the conven- 
ient moment.' 

‘All that might have been true’ — Elmur shrugged 
his shoulders ; unluckily we must face things as they 
actually are.’ 

‘Even now Rallywood has his uses. The Guard 
is composed of the flower of our nobility — they are 
not to be tempted. At least that is my opinion, al- 
though I believe Count Sagan holds differently. But 
this Rallywood is a soldier of fortune, a mercenary. 
You perceive?’ 

Elmur stroked his chin dubiously. 

‘I am very much afraid he belongs to the wrong 
breed. However, I would wish to point out that it 
will be essential to carry through this matter quick- 
ly. If the Duke could be persuaded to accept the 
scheme of reversion, the whole arrangement would 
be completed before the world was the wiser.’ 

‘It is the simplest plan, and therefore the best. 


A QUESTION OE THE GUAED. gg 

But what will England say? Counsellor is here, 
that in itself speaks/ 

‘Neither England nor the good Counsellor can 
touch an accomplished fact. As they say in their 
own idiom, “Possession is nine parts of the law.’’ It 
remains with us to make the fact.’ 

Selpdorf arose. 

‘Your Excellency will excuse me. It is time 
to start for the palace. To-day his Highness the 
Duke holds a review of the Guard. I will if possible 
sound him on the subject which interests us both. 
Should that fail, we must consider the alternative 
scheme.’ 

Half-an-hour later the two men met again as they 
dismounted in the court-yard of the palace. They 
approached each other courteously. 

‘There stands the real obstacle to our success,’ said 
Elmur in a low tone. 

Selpdorf followed the German Minister’s glance. 
Standing there, in the fire-light of the guard-room, 
was the tall figure of Anthony Unziar, waiting with 
haughty stiffness for the appearance of the Duke. 

‘His Highness’s gentlemen, the Maasaun Guard,’ 
went on Elmur with a bitter sneer, ‘the impersona- 
tion of an arrogant militarism !’ 

‘Seven — to be counted with,’ corrected Selpdorf 
gently. ‘The other, the eighth ’ 

‘Has the initial fault of nationality. However, 
he goes to Sagan.’ 

The mist cleared as the sun rose higher until, by 


lOO 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


noon, the sky was of a pale radiant blue laced with a 
delicate broidery of white wind-scattered clouds. 
Looking westward the dark river wound away to 
the sea, ringed here and there by the highly deco- 
rated bridges of light-toned granite peculiar to Maa- 
sau. Revonde, in the sunshine, shone in the colours 
of a moss-grown stone, gray and green, the twin 
ridges on which it stood fretted and embossed to 
their summits with the palaces and pinnacles, the 
spires and towers, and gardens of the spreading city. 
The Grand Duke, as they rounded the mounting 
road to the parade ground, looked back upon Re- 
vonde with a lingering glance. Selpdorf who was 
seated opposite to him, had been replying to his 
grumbling questions as to the condition of the royal 
exchequer with a depressing account of the hopeless- 
ness of the situation. 

‘Revonde is a jewel after all!’ said the Duke sud- 
denly; ‘a jewel can always be mortgaged, Selpdorf.’ 

Selpdorf admitted that this was true, and also 
hinted that the jewel had been used in one way or 
another pretty freely to raise the revenues for a good 
many years, without giving much in the way of a 
quid pro quo, beyond the vague hopes and airy 
promises which pledged the Maasaun government to 
little or nothing. But now, he explained, the Pow- 
ers were growing weary of so unprofitable a specula- 
tion, and were inclined to expect some definite re- 
turn for their assistance. 

The Duke listened moodily, lying back on his 


A QUESTION OF THE GUARD. lOI 

cushions, a thin-legged, paunchy figure, whose fea- 
tures had lost their shapely mould under the touch 
of dissipation. The nose hung long and fleshy be- 
tween the pouched skin of his cheekbones, the eyes 
showed a tell-tale slackness in the under eyelid, 
where it merged into the loose wrinkles below. The 
lower part of the face was covered by a long but 
sparse moustache, through which at times could be 
discerned that terrible protrusion of the upper lip 
that seems the herald of senility. Yet Gustave, Grand 
Duke of Maasau, was only that day celebrating the 
completion of his fifty-seventh year. 

Where the carriage attained the level of the pla- 
teau, the main road curved away inland to the right, 
while upon the left hand, under the wall of encircling 
brown cliffs, a small brigade of all arms was assem- 
bled to do honour to their ruler. Through a cut in 
the hills far away, but seemingly nearer on that 
windy morning, could be seen a blue open bay, blown 
into the ‘innumerable laughter of the sea.’ The air, 
the whole scene, was inspiriting, but the Duke 
looked heavily on as the troops deployed and turned, 
their arms glittering in the sunlight. 

First in order came a couple of squadrons of 
the Frontier Cavalry, with their black sheepskins 
hanging behind them; then infantry, followed by 
two batteries of artillery divided by some more cav- 
alry, and, after a distinct interval, the Guard. 

The little army was perfect in equipment and fin- 
ish, and their uniforms were brilliant and pictur- 


102 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


esque ; but the Duke stared out of the amphitheatre 
of the parade ground with dissatisfaction and ennui. 
Money, he wanted money, and the less the Chan- 
cellor could encourage him to hope for it the more 
he desired to have it by hook or by crook. 

The Grand Marshal of Maasau having been dis- 
missed from the side of the royal carriage with a few 
curt words, the Duke spoke again, in a low tone to 
Selpdorf. 

‘Then you wish me to understand that there is no 
more to be got out of anybody. I know better than 
that. England, Germany, and Russia, are waiting 
to outbid each other.’ 

‘That is true, sire ; but they will not deal on the old 
terms.’ 

The Guard, with scattered pennons flying, were 
drawn up at the lower end of the parade ground. The 
chief effect of the day was about to take place — the 
charge of the Guard. 

‘I am now of an age,’ remarked the Duke peevish- 
ly, ‘when my birthdays have ceased to be a cause for 
congratulation. This review is an anachronism. In 
my father’s time I rode at the head of the Guard, and 
led a charge on the day I was eighteen. Pish! I 
have grown wiser, and know how to enjoy life after 
a more rational fashion. To return to our other 
subject — What do they want?’ 

Selpdorf smiled, and passed his fingers upwards 
over the erect corners of his moustache. 

‘For example, there is a power that might pay a 


A QUESTION OF THE GUARD. I03 

heavy annual sum if your Highness would consent 
to disband your Guard!’ he said, with a tentative 
smile. 

The slack fallen lines of the Duke’s visage grew 
suddenly tense. His eyes brightened as the tossing 
mass in green and gold swept down towards them in 
a thunder of hoofs, and the long-drawn shout of 
‘Maasau,’ with which the Guard have charged home 
on so many a battlefield. 

As the splendid ranks of horsemen crashed past 
under a flashing play of saluting swords, the Duke 
pulled himself erect in his carriage and raised his 
gloved hand in acknowledgment with a strong fling 
of enthusiasm that recalled to men present other and 
better days. 

Selpdorf’s brow lost its round smoothness for a 
short moment, but cleared again before the Duke 
dropped back with a groan into his seat. 

‘Disband the Guard? What traitor suggested 
that? May the Guard shoot me first! I’d rather 
rot of starvation than consent to it ! For with the 
Guard is bound up the freedom of Maasau !’ 

Presently he turned upon the Chancellor with a 
glooming and suspicious gaze. 

‘Has Sagan been tampering with you ?’ he asked, 
with a sneer, ‘if he tempted you now it would only 
be to betray you later ! He hankers after Maasau, 
but remember my cousin in England. He has 
claims which cannot be over-ridden.’ 

Selpdorf remained respectfully silent for a short 


104 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

time, revolving the extremely important admission 
with regard to the second claimant to the heritage 
of the Duchy, which the Duke in his excitement had 
made. 

The first and simpler plan of persuading the Duke 
to enter into an understanding with Germany, to the 
effect that she should enjoy the reversion of Maasau 
in exchange for the payment of a secured annuity, 
was plainly hopeless: It now remained to put in 
motion the second scheme, which contained elements 
of infinitely greater danger. 

Human nature is a complex thing, yet each man’s 
attitude of mind towards himself, is often only an 
extension of his attitude of mind towards his neigh- 
bour. 

What the Chancellor said to himself to whitewash 
his conduct in his own eyes, who can tell? The 
Duke, old vice-sodden reprobate as he was, had that 
one remnant of manhood left, a determination to 
face the last and most absolute contingency of life 
rather than sell his country. 

Perhaps Selpdorf used that most guilty of all ex- 
cuses — If I do not put my hand to this thing some- 
one else will. Maasau must fall sooner or later to 
some larger power. May not I profit by it as well 
as another? Did he set his house of excuse upon 
the sand of a certain bitter writing? T will per- 
suade them,’ said Satan — T will make them two 
idols, which they shall call Honour and Fidelity, and 


A QUESTION OF THE GUARD. IO5 

a law which shall be called passive obedience. And 
they shall worship these idols !’ If Honour, Fidelity, 
and Obedience be idols, where then, are the true 
gods? 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. 

The broadly flowing Kofn forms part of the north- 
eastern boundary of the State of Maasau. Its dark 
waters rush tumultuously from the gorge below the 
Castle of Sagan, and fling a vast enclosing arm about 
the bleak plains and marshes of which the wastes of 
the frontier consist. 

It is a land where even summer dwells coldly. 

To the north a chain of hills rises black against 
the sky, and there, set upon a boldly jutting spur, the 
Castle of Sagan dominates the inhospitable land- 
scape like a frown upon a sinister face. 

The whole spur and the hill behind it are rough 
with ragged pine-woods, and, below, the banks 
shelve to the river with a broken scattering of decidu- 
ous trees, that leave on the eye the chill impression 
of leafless branches tangled against a background of 
grey and stony slopes. 

vSome two or three miles south of the Castle the 
river breaks across a step-like outcrop of rock, and 
thus forms that famous ford, across which the 
Counts of Sagan used in the old days to lead their 
foraging expeditions over the border. 

Simon of Sagan, the present Count, inherited in 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. lOj 

an unmodified degree the more predatory and unciv- 
ilized instincts of his forefathers. Illiterate, bru- 
tal, and cunning, the thin vaneer laid by the nine- 
teenth century upon his coarse-grained nature was 
apt to rub off on the very slightest friction, bringing 
the original savage to the surface. 

He was at once the terror and the pride of the 
stolid, silent peasantry that lived under his rule. A 
fierce and fearless sportsman, his dependents delight- 
ed in boasting of the prowess of a master whose ca- 
pricious cruelties they never dreamed of resenting. 
With Sagan, throughout life, to desire was to have, 
and in his pursuit of the wished-for object, he was 
hampered by no new-fangled sentiments of honour, 
truth, or loyalty. Like other savages he quickly 
tired of his fancies when once gratified. Not four 
years ago he had been possessed by a frantic passion 
for the beautiful young wife whom he had now come 
to regard with something dangerously near hate. 

In dealing with such a temperament as this both 
Elmur and Selpdorf were well aware that they were 
handling an explosive that might at any moment 
wreck their most carefully laid plans. They would 
very much have preferred to have made a tool of the 
reigning Duke, but Selpdorf, who had been plying 
him for more than a month with a ceaseless and 
exhaustive course of innuendo, discouragement, and 
veiled temptation, was at length convinced, by the 
Duke’s reply on the day of the review, that nothing 
further was to be hoped for in that direction. 


Io8 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

For this reason the German party was obliged to 
fall back on Count Sagan. That he was untram- 
melled by principle, and was, moreover, prepared to 
meet them half-way, rendered their schemes no whit 
safer. The only hope of security lay in clinching 
the matter as quickly as it was possible to do so. 
Once the German grasp had been fairly laid upon 
the State, the nominal sovereign might struggle as 
he liked, he could hurt no one but himself. 

M. Selpdorf’s chief contribution towards the new 
plot — which was to be carried out at the Count’s own 
fortress, the Castle of Sagan — consisted in sending 
an urgent letter after his daughter, begging her to 
fall in with von Elmur’s wishes. 

Valerie received the letter in Madame de Sagan’s 
apartments. The Countess lay on a couch, reading 
a French novel and yawning. 

‘What a devoted papa!’ she exclaimed, glancing 

up. 

Valerie did not immediately reply. She was 
standing at the deep embayed window that looked 
out towards the river and the apparently endless 
desolation beyond. She only moved very slightly, 
thereby turning her back even more completely upon 
her companion. The girl had not lived so long in 
an atmosphere of diplomacy without learning the 
wisdom of keeping her own counsel. 

She had for some time been aware of Baron von 
Elmur’s admiration, but only of late had he seemed 
anxious to make his aspirations manifest to the pub- 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. IO9 

lie — a much more significant fact. For the German 
was in one way a universal admirer, he made quali- 
fied love to most of the good-looking ladies about the 
Court, and also, perhaps, more pointedly, to some 
who were not so good-looking, thus gaining much 
profit and some pleasure. His high-shouldered, 
portly, personable figure, his handsome face with its 
close-set narrow eyes, rose before Valerie’s mental 
eye. Her future husband? How absurd, how im- 
possible ! And she suddenly laughed a soft, throaty 
ripple of laughter. 

Isolde moved noiselessly, and coming behind Val- 
erie, caught her by the shoulders and swung her half 
round. 

‘What are you laughing at?’ she asked over the 
girl’s shoulder. 

Valerie moved away gently from under the slender 
hands. 

‘Can you imagine yourself in love with Baron von 
Elmur ?’ she asked. 

‘Were you laughing at that?’ inquired the other 
incredulously. 

‘Yes,’ with another little laugh. 

‘Ah ! the devoted papa has been writing of Baron 
von Elmur?’ said the Countess, with an arch smile. 

‘But, I can understand being in love with von El- 
mur! He is — difficult. Men no longer in their 
first youth are much the more interesting. The love 
of a young man is simple, he says what he means; 
but when he grows older it is not so. By that time 


no 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


he has gathered memories, enlightenment, experi- 
ences; and he begins by thinking he knows one 
through and through. And why? — because he 
knows other women — and them how imperfectly! 
As if we were not as various as the colours in the old 
Sagan diadem! Each woman is made differently, 
and each reflects her own colour. To teach a man — 
old enough to appreciate it — this little fact about 
ourselves is, I assure you, never a dull amusement.' 

Valerie paused before she spoke. 

‘Now I know why you are married, Isolde !' 

‘Ah, yes; but I was too young to realize that 
Sagan is a bear who cannot be taught to dance. I 
had just left school. I could not choose. But you, 
Valerie, you have a future before you! Poor An- 
thony, like all other young men, is desperately in 
earnest, he gives one the blues. I know he already 

bores you ; but von Elmur Ah, that is altogether 

another affair!’ 

Madame de Sagan sank down beside a little buhl- 
table, and tapped on it impatiently with her slight 
fingers. Against the light of the afternoon glow 
she watched the outline of Valerie’s cheek. For 
Mdlle. Selpdorf had returned to her contemplation 
of the landscape. A curl of blue smoke from among 
the trees on the nearer bank of the Kofn held her 
gaze and suggested thoughts, which she was taking 
up one by one, as it were, and examining soberly 
enough. 

Rallywood had been stationed at Kofn Ford when 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. 


Ill 


first Isolde made his acquaintance. The girl re- 
called a description she had heard of the tall young 
Englishman galloping along the flat road to the res- 
cue of the pretty, terrified Countess, whose Arab had 
been merely cantering along, capering now and 
again from sheer light-heartedness and without ma- 
licious intent, until its timid rider chose to scream, 
when it reared and started with flying hoofs towards 
the marshes. Valerie went on to picture Rally wood 
holding the trembling woman on her saddle till her 
escort and grooms overtook them, and at the picture 
the girl’s lip curled and quivered with angry scorn — 
of a sudden she hated and despised them both, but 
especially she despised Rallywood for having suc- 
cumbed to Isolde’s shallow beauty! Thus it will 
be seen that Mdlle. Selpdorf was inclined to under- 
rate Madame de Sagan’s points. Isolde was not 
only wonderfully pretty, but she was endowed with 
a superficial cleverness, and kindliness and tact, all 
of which rendered her irresistible to nine men out of 
ten. A moral chameleon, Isolde almost always be- 
lieved in herself and her own moods, therefore it was 
little wonder that the men whose phases of humour 
she reflected believed in her also, and moreover 
thought her as adorable and as full of delicious 
changes as Cleopatra. 

Isolde had told the story of her adventure to Val- 
erie, dwelling on the facts that the hero detested — 
absolutely detested — all other women, also that in 
physique he followed the most approved English pat- 


1 1 2 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

tern, and was an exceptionally good specimen at 
that. Altogether Valerie had found the description 
sufficiently attractive to induce her to pay Rally- 
wood that coquettish little visit in the ante-room of 
the Hotel du Chancelier. 

While these things passed through her thoughts 
her eyes were still fixed upon the blue plume of 
smoke that rose and melted over Kofn Ford, for its 
position indicated the whereabouts of the block- 
house used by the Frontier Patrol, and there Rally- 
wood had lived during the early part of his acquaint- 
ance with Isolde. 

‘What are you thinking of ?’ inquired Madame de 
Sagan suddenly ; then, as Valerie made no immediate 
answer, she added, ‘Shall I tell you, Valerie?^ 

The other turned, with the pink of sunset lighting 
up her pale face. 

‘I don’t imagine you can guess,’ she said, with a 
faint smile. 

Madame de Sagan’s little trill of laughter was not 
quite so childish and irresponsible as usual. 

‘But I can. You were thinking of Rallywood. 
You think rather often of Rallywood, my dear girl.’ 

The guess, so near the truth, startled Valerie, al- 
though she gave no sign. What could have sug- 
gested such an idea to Isolde? Instantly Valerie 
was on the defensive. Her delicate nostrils quiv- 
ered slightly, and her hand — a larger and more capa- 
ble hand than Isolde’s — closed more firmly upon her 
father’s letter, as she replied, with that firm direct- 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. 1 1 3 

ness which was so surprising a trait in her father’s 
daughter : — 

‘Yes, I was thinking of him — and you. The 
block-house where he lived is down there, I can see 
the smoke. That reminded me of it all. By the 
way, Isolde, it seems that some young men have a 
shade of interest about them.’ 

‘This one is rather unlike all the others,’ returned 
Madame de Sagan, with gravity. ‘He saved my 
life, and, well, he is different to anybody else. He 
assumes nothing.’ 

It is a fact worthy of consideration that while a 
man rarely establishes a claim on a woman by ren- 
dering her a service, a woman always establishes a 
claim on a man by being rendered a service. Per- 
haps this is as it should be. 

‘No,’ repeated Valerie, thoughtfully, ‘he certainly 
assumes — nothing.’ 

‘What do you mean by that, Valerie?’ exclaimed 
Isolde irritably. ‘You are in one of your incompre- 
hensible moods to-day. What do you think of Ral- 
ly wood ?’ 

‘I hardly know what to think yet. Very likely I 
shall never come to any conclusion about him. He 
is not my affair, and what can be more uninteresting 
than a man who has saved some other woman’s life?’ 
She laughed. ‘You have recommended von Elmur 
to my notice — I shall certainly spend my time to 
more profit in studying him.’ 

A servant entered. 


I 14 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘His Excellency Baron von Elmur wishes to wait 
upon your ladyship.^ 

Elmur advanced bowing. After greeting his hos- 
tess, he turned to Valerie with a manner that was 
new in their intercourse. He dropped from the 
courtier to the man pure and simple. 

Kissing the girl’s hand he said earnestly : 

‘I feared you were not to arrive until to-morrow.’ 

Madame de Sagan, who had raised her eyebrows 
and made a little grimace at Valerie behind the Min- 
ister’s back, here interposed: 

‘I persuaded her to travel here with me. I hope, 
Baron, you feel how greatly I have befriended you !’ 

‘You will find me grateful, Madame. In the 
meantime, I have been sent to warn you that his 
Highness has already arrived at the foot of the. hill, 
and to beg you to descend to the great hall, where the 
Count is waiting to receive him.’ 

‘Come, Valerie,’ said the Countess, with a little 
catch in her breath, and an added fleck of colour in 
her soft cheeks. 

The great hall was half-filled with servants and re- 
tainers, ranged according to the fashion, which has 
obtained at Sagan during the memory of man, for 
the ceremonious reception of the reigning Duke. 
Half a dozen huntsmen held in leash as many couples 
of huge boarhounds at one side of the hall ; on the 
other, servants, carrying gold trays of refreshments, 
stood in line. Above these, again, clustered the nu- 
merous guests who had already arrived. 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. I I 5 

As the Countess, looking very young and fair and 
slender, walked down the centre, Sagan, who had 
been draining a goblet of wine, thrust the cup back 
upon the tray, and catching his wife’s hand roughly, 
said, with an audible oath : 

‘You’re late.’ 

She shrank back, suppressing a cry, from his an- 
gry grasp ; but few had time to notice the incident, 
for the outer door clanged back upon its hinges to 
admit the Duke, who, shivering in his furs, entered 
upon the arm of Colendorp. 

Sagan advanced to meet him, but the Duke, 
glancing round the hall with a shudder, cut his for- 
mal greetings short. 

‘Sagan wears a more gloomy and cut-throat air 
than ever. Cousin,’ he said, irritably. 

Sagan’s response was covered by the entrance of 
the suite, the whole party being brought up by Ral- 
lywood and a couple of troopers of the Guard. Then 
Sagan, with a scowling face, offered the Duke the 
customary cup of wine, and, comparative silence be- 
ing restored, the ducal answer came peevishly to all 
ears : 

‘No, my good Simon, your wine is like yourself, 
rather too strong and a trifle rough for my taste. 
Let Briot be called. I have brought my own drink- 
ing.’ 

So saying, he waved the attendants aside, and, 
approaching Isolde, he raised her as she curtsied 
deeply. 


I I 6 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

There is one point, Madame, in which I can never 
hope to rival my cousin of Sagan. My wine may 
be more palatable; but I could never find a wife more 
beautiful or — more wise than his !’ he said, with ma- 
licious gallantry. 

Then bending forward he kissed the Countess 
with empressment on both cheeks. She trembled 
under the caress, though she was hardly aware of it, 
for her eyes were on her husband, whose daily in- 
creasing dislike of herself she could not understand, 
and was only newly beginning to dread. Valerie, 
standing immediately behind the Countess, over- 
heard and resented the details of the scene. It was 
unbearable to see Isolde helplessly baited by Sagan 
and the Duke — each man gratifying the spleen of 
the moment at the expense of a woman, who was 
obliged to submit to their discourtesy. Of all the 
guests Mdlle. Selpdorf alone stood erect, forgetting, 
in her indignation, to join in the general obeisance. 
The Grand Duke, looking up, found her flushed and 
flashing, and superlatively handsome. His flabby 
cheeks twitched, and his bleared eyes brightened. 

‘Mademoiselle Selpdorf, since you will not salute 
me, I can at least claim the right as your Duke to 
salute you,' he said, stepping towards her. 

Instantly Valerie sank into an exaggerated curtsy, 
thus adroitly avoiding the Duke’s outstretched hand 
and ready lips. His feeble legs failed, he stumbled 
forward and pitched into the arms of Elmur, who set 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. I I 7 

him upright with a gentle skilfulness that almost 
cheated the eyes of the spectators. 

The Duke, slightly shaken, and exceedingly an- 
noyed, turned upon the girl : 

‘Mademoiselle grows proud!’ 

‘Forgive me, sire; I did not dream that you would 
stoop so low I’ rejoined the girl, with apparent hu- 
mility. 

‘If you will not accept the salute of your Duke, 
Mademoiselle, may I ask to what you aspire ?’ he 
added contemptuously. 

Valerie was not of a meek spirit, and she saw a 
way in which she might revenge Isolde, little com- 
prehending the far-reaching consequences of her 
thoughtless words. 

‘I aspire to be maid of honour to the Grand Duch- 
ess of Maasau !’ she answered, with a glance towards 
the Countess. 

The Duke glared around him into the circle of 
half-curious, half-terrified faces, for this was a pierc- 
ing home-thrust, his eye dwelt for a moment on Sa- 
gan, towering tall and rugged and strong as one of 
his own native rocks, and he recognised that his 
cousin, although ten years his senior as age is 
counted, was infinitely younger in his unimpaired en- 
ergies and rude health. Also, Duke Gustave of 
Maasau was superstitious, and it struck him as an 
ill omen that the representative of Selpdorf should 
have failed him at the critical moment, and thus 
flung him headlong into the arms of Germany I 


Il8 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Out of all these crowding thoughts arose not only 
vivid fear, but a resolution, of which none at that 
time believed him to be capable. He grew white 
about the mouth, his protruding lip twitched omi- 
nously. 

‘It is not always lucky for even so young and 
beautiful a woman as you are to count on dead men’s 
shoes,’ he said, in a low, penetrating voice. 

A happy inspiration came to Madame de Sagan. 
She took Valerie’s hand in hers, and addressed the 
Duke with a quivering smile that somehow vouched 
for her earnestness at the moment. 

‘You mistake Valerie, sire; she and I both desire 
the same honour — to attend your Highness’s Con- 
sort, if it would please you to take one.’ 

‘It might please me, Madame ; but I doubt it would 
please your husband little,’ retorted the Duke. 

‘I hoped your Highness knew me better!’ pro- 
tested Sagan sulkily. 

‘I do, my good Simon, I know you much bet- 
ter!’ said the Duke laughing. ‘Now, pray lead me 
to my apartments. The journey to Sagan fatigues 
in this weather — and, after all, it would look better 
if I died at home — in the palace at Revonde.’ 

At a glance from Elmur, Sagan motioned his wife 
forward. 

‘I will lead you to your apartments, sire,’ she said, 
offering the Duke her slender hand. ‘I am sure that 
the air of Sagan is as loyal as ourselves, and will do 
for you all that we should wish it to do.’ 


THE CASTLE OF SAGAN. 


I 19 

For answer the Duke shook his head feebly; and, 
calling Colendorp to his side, passed up the long hall 
through a rustling silence. 


CHAPTER X. 


COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN. 

Although secretly dismayed at the effect produced 
by her rash championship of Madame de Sagan, Val- 
erie kept up a semblance of self-possession. Her 
clear colouring faded to extreme pallor, but her 
proud eyes showed no sign of shrinking from the 
curious glances cast upon her. She caught a tren- 
chant aside from Sagan to Elmur : 

‘These cursed women will ruin us !’ 

And in answer to this even Elmur’s flattery was 
mute. But Valerie stood haughty and erect, watch- 
ing the Duke’s suite file up the hall, Rallywood, as 
before, bringing up in the rear. 

As he came in line with her he turned his head, 
and their glances met. 

That look, which she always recalled as distinctive- 
ly his, was wiped from the young man’s gray eyes; 
they fell upon her stern, alienated, almost inimical. 
The change struck her like a blow. But before she 
could fling back her silent defiance at him, he was 
gone, without a second glance, or seeking in any 
manner to soften the insolent rebuke he had dared to 
convey. 


120 


COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN. I2I 

She resolved to go to her own rooms and make 
instant arrangements for a return to Revonde. Her 
heart was hot in her, as, looking round, she found 
herself standing alone. Elmur, apparently forget- 
ful of the deep personal devotion he had so lately 
manifested, was conversing with a group of Maasaun 
nobles, his back turned conveniently towards her. 
Sagan had disappeared, and not one of those whom 
she knew so well, and who, ten minutes ago, would 
have felt honoured by seeking her, but now seemed 
too deeply engaged to notice that she stood alone. 

A moment later Counsellor approached her. She 
had known him slightly for a long time, but she now 
for the first time fully met the shrewd, kindly eyes 
under their shaggy brows. Instantly she liked him, 
and to her own surprise found herself talking of the 
indiscretion of which she had been guilty, and of her 
wish to return to Revonde in consequence. 

‘Mademoiselle, are you a loyal Maasaun?’ asked 
Counsellor gravely. 

Valerie’s soft dark eyes gazed steadily back into 
his. 

‘I am loyal,’ she replied, in an earnest under- 
breath. 

Then stay in Sagan. If your words carried so 
long a tag of meaning to others, you can see that 
Maasau may have need of all her loyal children 
soon.’ 

‘Whom can we trust ?’ she asked suddenly, almost 
in a whisper, for Elmur, seeing her in conversation 


122 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

with Counsellor, now approached with a ceremoni- 
ous air. 

Counsellor smiled as he stood squarely beside her. 

‘Choose !’ he said, briefly. 

‘Choose what ?’ asked Elmur in his most deferen- 
tial manner. Madamoiselle’s choice in the most 
trivial matters is of importance.’ 

Valerie smiled. Not a trace of disturbance was 
perceptible in her manner, and Elmur, noting it, 
came to the final conclusion that this girl was not 
only extraordinarily handsome, but also exceptionally 
capable. Having made so grievous a mistake, and 
taken the punishment of it, she was still mistress of 
herself. It was a gallant spirit, and well worth cap- 
turing. 

‘Major Counsellor has asked me to choose flowers 
for the ball to-night. I choose roses. I think it is 
very nice of me. Major Counsellor, for is not the rose 
the emblem of England?’ said the girl, with a co- 
quettish smile at the older man. 

Elmur’s face clouded. This interfering old fel- 
low had the power of making friends, which means 
the power of being a dangerous enemy. 

‘I had hoped,’ he said aloud, ‘to have the pleasure 
of begging Mademoiselle to accept my flowers.’ 

‘You are too late, Baron; but perhaps you will 
escort me to the west tower, where I daresay Mad- 
ame de Sagan is already waiting for me.’ 

Counsellor looked after the tall graceful figure of 
the girl as she ascended the staircase with Elmur at 


COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN. 


123 

her side. He could see she was still laughing and 
talking to her companion, but her ready parry of the 
German’s question, including a clear reply to his 
own, showed him that the Chancellor’s daughter was 
much more than a mere wilful girl. 

‘John Rally wood,’ he grunted, as he turned away, 
^is after all not so great an ass as he thinks himself.’ 

An attendant intercepted the German before he 
regained the hall, after leaving Valerie with Madame 
de Sagan. 

‘My lord desires to speak with your Excellency,’ 
he said. 

Elmur frowned. He wished to allow Count Si- 
mon time to cool before meeting him, but this sum- 
mons was imperative, and, besides, he knew the dan- 
ger of failing to provide a safety-valve in the shape 
of a listener, before the Count could blow off the 
first ebullitions of rage over Mdlle. Selpdorf’s un- 
toward speech. If pent up within his own breast, 
there was no knowing in how disastrous a manner 
Sagan’s ill-humour might explode. Defeat meant 
much to Elmur, his reputation was at stake. Other 
men had undertaken this same mission — to bring 
about the annexation to the Fatherland of this trou- 
blesome little state; they had failed, therefore El- 
mur had pledged himself to succeed. 

Elmur stood with his back against a massive 
carved bookshelf, and looked at Sagan, who, with 
a cigar-butt buried in his ragged beard, was walking. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


124 

with long, uncertain steps, up and down the floor. 
The tiger in the old man was awake. 

‘Act I., Scene I.,’ said Elmur at last, and with a 
smile. 

Sagan stopped short and turned a bloodshot side- 
long glare upon him, his dark old fingers working 
convulsively. 

‘By heaven! It is going to be a tragedy!’ he 
shouted, and burst into a whirlwind of hideous 
curses, coupled with the names of Valerie and his 
wife. 

The German picked out a comfortable chair and 
seated himself, crossing his legs with a manifest 
intention of patience. There was a horrible energy 
in the old man’s attitudes. His long smouldering 
ambition, nursed and fed of late, had now flamed into 
a regnant passion, and the cooler, more wary, un- 
scrupulousness of the younger man looked with re- 
pugnance upon the blind fury of the Duke that was 
to be. 

In no great space of time the sight of that im- 
passive, high-shouldered figure, sitting calmly by, 
imposed a growing sense of restraint upon the 
Count. 

‘What do you think of our chances now that 
Gustave’s suspicions have been set on the alert?’ he 
asked at last, coming to a stop in front of Elmur. 
‘That fool of a wife of mine has blabbed to Selp- 
dorf’s danghter, and she in her turn blabs before all 
the world.’ 


COUNT SIMON OP SAOaN. 125 

Elmui sat still and dumb. His face enraged 
Sagan once more. 

‘But I am master in Sagan. The girl must be 
got rid of! There are a hundred dangers in our 
mountains and marshes. Do you not understand ?’ 

Baron von Elmur stood up. He bore his most 
dignified air, and there was something in his whole 
aspect that made the Count pause. 

Tn the first place, her death under the circum- 
stances would look strange. In the second, we have 
nothing to gain from it,' he said. 

Sagan’s red eyes twinkled cunningly. 

‘Hear my plan. I am not so squeamish as you 
thin-blooded moderns, or at least as you pretend to 
be I’ He placed his finger on the Minister’s breast, 
and drew back a little, the better to enjoy the appro- 
bation he expected to read in the other’s face. ‘We 
will say that the girl fell ill, and I, in my anxiety, sent 
Madame Sagan — my own wife, mark you — to ac- 
company her to Revonde. *If both should happen 
to be killed by an accident we should be well rid of 
them — and what could the world say ?’ 

Elmur drew away from the insistive finger with 
an unmistakable movement. He bowed stiffly and 
moved towards the door. 

T do not know what the world might do or say 
but I can answer for Ludwig von Elmur. My mas- 
ter does not deal in murder, my lord, and so I beg 
your leave to withdraw.’ 

‘What?’ sneered the other, ‘he does not deal in 


126 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


murder ? Rather, you would say, he prefers to deal 
in murder wholesale! What of your wars and an- 
nexations? What of the Germans in West Africa? 
Take care, Elmur, that you are not acting over 
hastily. For my part I don’t believe that a life or so 
would weigh too heavy in the balance as against a 
province, even in your master’s judgment. I take 
my world as I find it, my good Baron I’ 

‘Pardon me, my lord, you take the world as your 
ancestors found it! You may be all your fathers 
were, but however time goes at Sagan, the rest of 
the world has not stood still since the middle ages. 
And the world is on my side to-day. Besides,’ he 
added more suavely, ‘we should gain nothing. We 
should alienate Selpdorf, who is useful, and who 
knows too much. As for the Duke, after such an 
affair he could never be eased of his suspicions.’ 

‘I don’t ask to ease him, I mean to cure him,’ re- 
torted Sagan, meaningly. 

‘I am certain Madame de Sagan has been silent. 
The speech of Mdlle. Selpdorf was the indignant 
outburst of a girl who thought her friend discour- 
teously treated.’ 

‘Discourteously treated? Isolde rudely treated? 
By whom ?’ 

‘Forgive me once more, my lord ; but, in the first 
place, by yourself.’ 

Sagan laughed aloud; his ill-temper vanishing 
before the humour of the notion that anyone could 


COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN. 12 ^ 

take exception to a man’s rudeness towards his own 
wife. 

Tooh! the girl is a bigger idiot than I thought 
her. Let us hope she’ll never meet with worse at 
the hands of her own husband.’ 

join in the hope, my lord, since I am to be that 
most fortunate man !’ It was not the most felicitous 
moment, but Elmur was aware that in no other way 
could he assure Valerie’s safety against the treachery 
of his colleague. 

Sagan fell back a step. 

‘So — the wind blows from that quarter? Take 
heed, Baron, Selpdorf is a slippery fish.’ 

‘But by this arrangement we land him finally.’ 

‘It may be so.’ Sagan tugged broodingly at his 
beard, after a pause adding, ‘Well, well, the girl is 
safe enough for me, if you can answer for her. 
Come back and sit down. We must act while Gus- 
tave is here. Once we secure the Guard, we can 
force him to do — as we please. First a compromise, 
then abdication, then — ’ he brought his hand down 
heavily upon the table and sat staring before him 
at a vision of a dream fulfilled — a vision of Duke 
Simon of Maasau. 

Elmur’s lip curled as he watched the man, who, 
for the time being, was oblivious of all but the 
realisation of his own ambition. Duke Simon! a 
name, but never a living power — only a German pup- 
pet, pulled hither and thither at will by the controll- 
ing hand. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


I2S 

^ What are your plans, my lord ?’ he asked aloud. 

The Count started, and raised his head. 

We have three of the Guard here — Unziar, Rally- 
wood, Colendorp. You know that as soon as we 
have made sure of their officers the men will follow 
of themselves. Now Unziar is no saint.^ 

‘But he fights the better because he is a sinner.^ 

‘He is not to be tempted, then. But he is in love 
with Mdlle. Selpdorf — with your future wife, and 
she must blind him. A man in love is easily blinded.* 

‘And Rally wood ?’ asked Elmur. 

‘We don’t — want Rally wood,’ rejoined Sagan, 
with an odd glance at Elmur. ‘I can manage him, 
if you will leave him to me.’ 

Elmur smiled. 

‘I conclude Rally wood is capable of taking care 
of himself.’ 

The Count grinned. 

‘Exactly what I believed you would think. There 
remains only Colendorp. But Colendorp is the man 
we must have — all will depend on Colendorp.’ 

‘Do you suppose he will bend ?’ 

‘If not he must break ! But, no ; I know him well ! 
I have chosen him because he touches no woman ! 
Men who don’t love women, love money, and men 
who do ’ 

‘Love both,’ said Elmur quietly. 

‘To-morrow night Colendorp shall be here with 
me. You also will be present. Colendorp is a poor 


COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN. 12^ 

man — as men go in the Guard — and we must ap- 
proach him softly and by degrees/ said Sagan. 

Elmur concealed a smile. A course of softness 
and caution seemed impossible in connection with 
the headstrong old man who counselled it. 

Sagan, left alone, stood engrossed in thought. 
The wild beast instinct in him gave him intuition of 
danger. Elmur was playing Germany’s game, but 
since his aim was the Count’s own, it was impossible 
at this stage to disentangle the precise cause of 
suspicion. 


CHAPTER XL 


A COUNSEL OF EXPEDIENCY. 

The foundation of the family and Castle of Sagan 
was said to belong to the period of the Frankish 
incursions. Some one had once remarked that 
Count Simon himself was the most perfect relic of 
the barbaric period to be found in Europe, which, 
coming round in due time to Count Simon, the joker 
paid with his life for his poor attempt at wit. 

However true this tradition of Sagan might be, 
the Castle itself was mediaeval, and, though it had 
been added to and restored, dark and tortuous pass- 
ages still existed in the older portion of its huge bulk, 
and could by no means be improved away. Treach- 
erous steps waylaid and betrayed the unwary foot; 
undreamed-of doors gave upon their dimmest cor- 
ners, and not all the efforts of the nervous chatelaine 
ever accomplished the adequate lighting of their 
recesses. 

The spirit of fear seemed to be abroad in the 
Castle that night, and the guests moved with a 
causeless but irresistible hurry when coming or going 
from the upper apartments or through the winding 
corridors. 

Valerie was conscious of it, as, wrapped in a long 
130 


A COUNSEL OP EXPEDIENCY. 1 ^ 1 

cloak, she opened her door and started back on 
finding a tall high-shouldered figure standing out- 
side. 

‘Take my arm, Mademoiselle, I beg of you.’ von 
Elmur bent his head, speaking urgently: T am 
aware that his August Impertinence well deserved 
your rebuke! But many heard it, and by some a 
sinister construction has been put upon it. For 
your father’s sake, will you condescend to listen to 
me?’ 

Valerie withdrew her hand from his arm with a 
swift movement, but he caught and replaced it almost 
roughly. 

‘Forgive me. Mademoiselle, you must listen to me! 
I am not urging my suit upon you — I will not urge 
it until you consult your father; but, in the mean- 
time, the exigencies of the case, difficulties which 
have arisen as the result of your own words, make 
it essential for you to follow my advice. You are 
aware, you must be aware, of my feelings towards 
you, and may I remind you that your father’s wishes 
coincide with mine? Will you allow me to an- 
nounce our betrothal to the Count? I will never 
presume upon this favour in the future — you may 
rely upon me. Valerie, you see I am using no 
lover’s persuasiveness, I do not tell you that I adore 
you — though you are well aware of that! I only 
declare that your falling in with my request may 
mean the difference between life and death to some 
of us!’ 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


132 

‘Is my father in danger through my fault ?' 

His hand held hers close, and she could see that he 
was moved out of the common by some emotion, the 
cool stillness of his manner was replaced by a passion 
of which she had not believed him capable. Her 
beauty and the thought of losing her had a good deal 
to do with this disturbance, but the chief cause was 
the fear, that, after all, his mission might fail, and 
fail badly. 

‘I cannot explain ; but I implore you to act on my 
advice.^ 

Valerie hesitated. Elmur was very much in earn- 
est, yet it might be an attempt to trick her into a 
position from which she would find it almost impos- 
sible to withdraw. 

‘Do you wish to make this public ?’ she asked. 

‘No, no. That — pardon me once more — would 
be equally fatal after the impression you unluckily 
conveyed to the Duke. No ; I only ask you to allow 
Count Sagan to believe that you have consented to 
become my wife. I beg you to do this — for M. 
Selpdorf's sake, and, indeed. Mademoiselle, for your 
own !’ 

As they entered the circle of brilliant light falling 
from the great lamp above Madame de Sagan’s door 
Baron von Elmur resumed something of his usual 
manner. 

‘Then I may conduct you no further?’ he said, 
turning in front of her to screen her agitated face 


A COUNSEL OF EXPEDIENCY. I 33 

from two persons who were coming along the gal- 
lery. 

‘Thank you for your protection, Baron,’ the girl 
replied in an audible tone, ‘the Castle is haunted 
on nights like these, when the tsa cries around it.’ 

The door swung open noiselessly beside them, and 
Count Sagan stood on the threshold. By some in- 
stinct, without looking at him, she seemed to see his 
angry, questioning gaze. 

‘Au revoir,’ she added to Elmur, with a coquettish 
ring in her voice. 

‘Ah, Mademoiselle, I live for that only — to see 
you again,’ began Elmur. 

Sagan cut him short. 

‘Tut, tut, Baron, too many eyes are looking on 
to permit of such endearments as these ! Ardour in 
a betrothed lover is natural, yet ’ 

Valerie looked up and smiled miserably. 

‘Au revoir,’ she repeated faintly. 

With that the door closed behind her as Sagan led 
her away to his wife, and Elmur, affecting not to see 
the two men who were passing, strolled on singing 
a love-song under his breath. Unziar paused, then 
drew Rallywood with him into the centre of the wide 
lighted passage, where they could speak with more 
freedom. ‘That settles more questions than one!’ 
he said mockingly. ‘For example, it settles a ques- 
tion which most concerns you and me, Rallywood.’ 

‘Concerns me?’ Rallywood flung back the words. 


134 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘Would you deny it? You are as deep in that as 
I,’ nodding towards the door behind them. 

Rallywood’s answer came slowly. 

‘I do not deny it. Why should I wish to? 
Though regard for her has led me to attempt to hide 
my — folly. I see I have not been altogether as suc- 
cessful as I hoped. But, had I anything to offer 
her beside my sword, Fm hanged if I would let that 
infernal German have her !’ 

‘In these affairs, my friend, the ladies equally 
make choice,’ Unziar replied with a sneer. ‘Besides, 
it is only a part of the — plot,’ the last word was 
scarcely audible. 

Rallywood turned on him a long, keen look. 

‘And you think that she. Mademoiselle, is in it?’ 
he asked at last. 

‘I wish to God I could say not ! But in the teeth 
of this conspiracy, for the sake of Maasau, we of the 
Guard cannot lie to each other.’ 

Rallywood, being on duty during the evening, 
stood, according to usage, at some little distance be- 
hind the Duke’s chair. From among the coming 
and going, from chance words and prepared speeches 
he gathered a thread of suspicion which had its use 
in the perplexing future that was rapidly advancing 
upon them. 

Valerie, with a flush upon her face, was looking 
unusually brilliant as she talked for a while with 
Unziar, who, judging from the sourness of his smile, 
may have been offering her his congratulations. 


A COUNSEL OF EXPEDIENCY. I 35 

Counsellor came up to Rallywood, and as they 
stood well away from the crowd, spoke openly. 

‘You have heard the news I see, John, and you 
are not nearly such a fool as you think yourself. 
She is a girl in ten thousand, and may, not improb- 
ably, make the exceptional woman I once before 
spoke to you about. I knew this connection was 
under consideration by Elmur, but the engagement 
did not exist a few hours ago, and the present mo- 
ment is precisely the most inopportune which could 
be chosen for its announcement, hence it follows that 
someone has forced Elmur’ s hand, or that he is 
forcing the hand of someone, it may be Mdlle. Selp- 
dorf s.’ 

‘Will it be announced — publicly ? The Duke, for 
example.’ 

Tt is known already to half-a-dozen; what can 
they do ? I had it from Blivinski, the little Russian 
attache, as a secret. Russia is, like nature herself, 
the vast reservoir of all secrets; and not one is al- 
lowed to escape, except for a purpose. Yet I won- 
der how it will end. Look at her! How brilliant 
she is. But rouge on the cheek of a woman who 
habitually uses none means, in all cases — trouble,’ 
said Counsellor, as he moved off. 


CHAPTER XIL 


ANTHONY UNZIAR. 

No ONE could have gathered, from the quiet aspect 
of Rallywood’s tall, soldierly figure, that a whirl of 
emotion was passing through his brain. Yet above 
all rose one dominant sensation — a vast relief. 
Counsellor shared his own opinion with regard to 
Valerie. Her daring words to the Duke had no 
serious meaning ; they were only the natural echo of 
a girl’s preference for a young and beautiful woman 
to preside over the Court, rather than the bloated 
rake who now lolled uneasily in the chair before 
him. He recalled the forlorn little smile with which 
she had accepted von Elmur’s lover-like protestations 
at Madame de Sagan’s doorway. Its forlornness 
had been lost upon Unziar, who had drawn but one 
merciless conclusion from the little scene. Close on 
the heels of these reflections a vivid recollection rose 
before Rallywood’s mind of the first night he had 
met her. The lights and music of the grand salon 
of Sagan died away, and he was standing again on 
the ridge below the Hotel du Chancelier, looking out 
over the glimmering lamps of Revonde, dominated, 
as always, by the regnant red eye of the Guards’ 
Dome, and he felt once more that strange new 
136 


ANTHONY UNZIAR. 


137 

warmth and thrill in his veins which, at the time, he 
had believed to be born of an opening career beset 
with danger and difficulty. To-night, however, he 
judged more clearly; he knew that his dull life had 
been rekindled, and his ambitions had taken fresh fire 
from the dark starlit eyes Valerie Selpdorf had raised 
to his in the Counsellor's ante-room two months ago. 

‘Captain Rallywood!’ 

Rallywood started. The Duke made him a sign 
to approach. Then, rising from his chair, he took 
the young man’s arm, and leaning heavily upon it, 
moved towards the card-room, meeting Unziar with 
Mdlle. Selpdorf on the way. 

‘Hey, Mademoiselle V alerie,’ he stopped abruptly, 
‘would you teach my Guards treason ?’ 

To teach your Highness’s Guards treason is im- 
possible!’ replied Valerie, with a slight lifting of her 
proud head. 

‘The influence of a beautiful woman has no limit,’ 
retorted the Duke. 

Valerie’s red lips trembled. 

‘Generations have already proved the fidelity of 
the Selpdorfs has also no limit. But I beg you to 
accept an apology for my foolish words.’ 

‘But such words from a Selpdorf 1’ 

‘We have always been loyal, sire.’ 

The Duke shook his head sadly. 

‘But the world changes — what has been is not. 
And the first reason now-a-days why a thing should 
no longer be, is the fact that once it was 1’ 


138 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Valerie was almost as tall as the Duke himself, and 
she looked level into his weary eyes. 

'Have we changed with the world, sire?’ 

‘Not — yet,’ replied the Duke bitterly ; then, struck, 
as it seemed, by the intrinsic spirit of the young im- 
perial face gazing into his own, he added, ‘Though 
you tempt a man to believe in you. Mademoiselle !’ 

‘I say this before your Highness and these gentle- 
men of your Guard,’ Valerie said, her eyes flashing. 
‘May the Selpdorf, who ceases to be true to your 
Highness and to Maasau, die!’ 

In after time events brought back the vehement 
words to the minds of the three who heard them. 

‘And I say, “Amen I” ’ The Duke took her hand 
and added, ‘Which proves, Valerie, that you have 
conquered your old friend, Gustave of Maasau. 
Come, Captain Rallywood, half-an-hour’s play, and 
then to bed.’ 

Valerie looked up at Unziar as she walked beside 
him. 

“And yet you would not believe me?’ 

‘Come I’ was Unziar’ s reply. 

She laid her hand within his arm and passed 
silently through the reception rooms beside him. 

She felt that the time had come when Unziar could 
no more be put off by the little wiles and evasions 
a woman employs who has nothing to give to the 
man who loves her but a definite answer. Two 
luxurious chairs stood ready for occupants in the 
nook to which he led her, but he had no thought 


ANTHONY UNZIAR. I 39 

to give to conventionalities. He stood before her 
keen and white, and desperate with doubt. 

‘Valerie, what does all this mean?’ 

Though only a girl in years, Valerie was a 
woman in experience. Experience, not gained alto- 
gether at first hand, be it understood, but such as a 
clever woman easily gathers from the lives of those 
about her. As the motherless daughter of M. Selp- 
dorf, she had had exceptional opportunities. 
Thrown into the midst of a brilliant but vicious 
society, her eyes had seen more of the bare under- 
texture of life than was perhaps desirable; she had 
looked upon the shift and drift of things political 
with an ever-present knowledge that there danger 
lurked and waited; she had learned the uses of re- 
serve, and something of the art of resource; and, 
above all, her womanly perceptions had taken on a 
strange edge of sensitive power, due to her father’s 
quaint methods of pointing out to her the difference 
between the seeming and the true. By reason of 
this premature insight into the motives and stress 
of human existence she gained in safety and strength 
as her father desired ; but on the other hand, she had 
lost the sense of happy irresponsibility that goes so 
far towards making up one of the sweetest essentials 
of youth. Luckily there is one thing which can 
never be quite destroyed at secondhand — the ro- 
mance and illusions that beguile boyhood and girl- 
hood, and the liability to be so beguiled still lived in 
Valerie’s strong and vivid nature. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


140 

‘Shall I swear that every word I spoke to the 
Duke just now is true?’ she asked coldly. ‘Al- 
though, of course, even that would not convince 
you!’ 

‘No, I suppose not,’ he said drearily. ‘You spoke 
openly of your hope to be maid of honour to Madame 
de Sagan when she became Duchess of Maasau — 
which can only mean one thing. Rally wood heard 
and told me exactly.’ 

‘You discussed me with Captain Rally wood? she 
flashed out. 

Unziar’s glance darkened again with a new suspi- 
cion. 

‘Should you object?’ he asked. 

‘As it happens, I should, particularly.’ 

He bit savagely at his moustache. 

‘What is wrong with Rally wood ?’ 

‘He is an Englishman. Besides, I do not care 
to be discussed amongst the men of the Guard I’ 

‘How like a woman you put me off! I did not 
discuss you with Rallywood, of course, as you very 
well know. I asked him the single question as to 
what had actually been said. I knew he would not 
lie to me.’ 

‘The Guard keep their falsehoods for outsiders, 
I suppose ?’ 

Unziar liked this harping upon Rallywood less 
and less. He moved irritably. 

‘But that is not all. You have admitted that 


ANTHONY UNZIAR. I4I 

you are going to marry Elmur. That also signifies 
— something/ 

'Whatever it signifies, it does not signify that I 
am disloyal to Maasau/ 

'You have seen for yourself that there is a change 
here at Sagan,’ argued Unziar. 'No German has 
ever been welcome here before. We can but guess 
at treason.’ 

‘Hush!’ it cannot be that, since my father has 
knowledge of it.’ 

This was an entirely unexpected development of 
the difficulty. Unziar felt the check, and even in his 
turbulence he changed his venue. 

‘It may be so — let that rest ; but nothing can alter 
me in the belief that Elmur is the natural enemy of 
the State. Valerie, he can give you many things 
that I cannot offer you. But my love — No, hear 
me for once. You must hear me, Valerie! You 
know that I have loved you always, I don’t remem- 
ber when it began — I was a boy. But Elmur at the 
best must have loved others before you. Whereas 
I — I have thought of no one else all my life !’ 

'Why, I have heard differently, Anthony,’ she in- 
terposed, with a smile that was a vain effort to tem- 
per the intensity of his mood. 

He stamped with his spurred heel upon a fallen 
flower. 

'I don’t pretend to be a saint; I am what other 
men are. You see I do not deceive you even now. 
But give me the chance and I will prove to you that 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


142 

the Unziars can be faithful. Valerie, give me your 
love! For God’s sake don’t say you cannot ! Give 
me your love I’ 

'Anthony I’ 

It almost shocked her to see Unziar — cold and 
cynical Unziar — pleading as a man pleads for escape 
from death, with a terrible self-abandonment. 

‘Wait! Tell me this. Did you choose von 
Elmur ?’ 

‘My — we — it has nothing to do with that kind of 
thing.’ 

‘I thought not! Then you will sacrifice yourself 
for an idea? You shall not !’ 

‘Anthony, you are very good to me — ^you have 
always been. I know that if I felt for you as you 
wish me to feel, then you could help me. But I 
don’t! As long as I can remember you have been 
my playfellow, my brother; but not more — never 
this! Anthony, I love you, but not — but not — 
You have been so honest with me that whatever it 
costs I must be honest with you. I can never do as 
you wish !’ 

Unziar listened rather to some far-off tide of 
thought, as it seemed, than to her words — thoughts 
that flowed in upon him and quenched hope. 

‘You do not love me; Elmur is beside the mark 
— beside the question of love — altogether. Then, 
Valerie, whom do you love?’ 

She gave him a frightened glance, and drew in 
her breath as one who parries a blow. 


ANTHONY UNZIAR. 1 43 

‘There is no one’ ; then, added more firmly, ‘You 
are mistaken — there is no one.’ 

Tf that be so,’ responded the young man sullenly, 
‘then my chance is as good as another’s. I shall not 
give up hope ! Remember that. But I have thought 
that Rallywood ’ 

Valerie recalled the coldness of the averted grey 
eyes, and the memory stung her. 

‘He hates me,’ she replied with a haughty smile, 
‘as I hate him !’ 

‘Rallywood hates you?’ he repeated in angry 
astonishment. 

‘Yes; but whatever he may feel for me I return 
in full!’ 

‘Valerie, then you love no one? Say it again.’ 

The jingle of spur and scabbard came through the 
flower-hung spaces, and Rallywood passed within a 
few feet of them. He was whistling softly as he 
walked along with an easy swing of his strong shoul- 
ders. 

‘I love ’ Valerie began, and stopped short, for 

Rallywood turned in his stride as if he felt their eyes 
upon him. 

‘His Highness has sent for you, Unziar,’ he said. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

LOVE IN TWO SHADES. 

All the next morning the snow fell persistently, and 
Sagan might have been, as far as appearances went, 
a castle built in the air. Above, below, around, the 
snow eddied like a fairy torrent, beating against the 
solid walls and curling in curious ringed swirls about 
its buttresses as water beats about a rock in mid- 
stream. 

But the dominant grey of the outside world cast 
no appreciable reflection on the spirits of Madame de 
Sagan’s guests, with whom gaiety and wild devices 
for killing time were necessary and familiar things. 

But to Valerie the same suggestion of fear and 
unrest that had oppressed her on the previous even- 
ing still held its silent sway over the place. She 
stood at the broad window of the main stair-case 
watching the swift atoms of snow drift past, each 
one by itself a mere melting point, but, in their mil- 
lions, mighty. She shivered and looked round with 
an odd sense of apprehension, as if the vague blind 
storm outside had its counterpart in a vague blind 
danger within. 

A tall man came leaping up the stair-case. He 
stopped beside her. She looked up at him, her deep 
eyes were full of some disturbing thought. 

144 


LOVE IN TWO SHADES. 1 45 

^Captain Rally wood, will you tell Major Counsel- 
lor from me,’ she began at once, in a low, hurried 
voice, ‘that, in spite of what he has heard of me, he 
must still believe Maasau is the dearest thing on 
earth to me. Tell him that, if needful, I am ready 
to prove it with my life ! He may make quite sure 
I meant all I said to him yesterday.’ 

Rallywood stood silent. The passion of her voice 
and speech echoed in her own ears and suddenly 
seemed all excessive and uncalled for ; a blush — half 
anger, half shame — rushed over her face, bringing 
tears to her eyes. Why was it decreed that she 
should always, in some small foolish way, appear to 
disadvantage before this wretched Englishman. 

‘I will tell him,’ said Rallywood at last, ‘though 
I cannot understand.’ 

‘No, you cannot understand! You are so cold, 
so self-centred that the feelings and tumults which 
trouble most of us appear as weaknesses to you. 
Since you cannot understand us, you should not 
judge us, we others, who, in our own spasmodic way, 
love our country as you serve yours — steadily and 
with a whole heart.’ 

Now, John Rallywood was perplexed. He longed 
to set himself right with her. Her very accusations, 
her readiness to find fault, which might have made 
matters clear to some men, only disheartened him 
with a renewed sense of her dislike. 

‘You hate my nation,’ he said, after a pause of 
consideration, ‘therefore you condemn me, not be- 


146 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

cause of anything I have done, but on general 
grounds, putting the worst construction on — on 
everything. I wonder why you judge me so 
hardly T 

Valerie laughed, her red lip finely edged with 
scorn. 

^On the contrary, you judge us! Who made you 
a judge over us? You regard us — you English — 
with that straight steady look. I suppose you feel 
what futile creatures we others are, with our shifting 
moods and passions, our little furies and despera- 
tions! Do you remember the night you joined the 
Guard — the night in the Cloister of St. Anthony? 
How I trembled and feared for you, F — she laughed 
again — ‘I even wanted to help you! How absurd 
it all seemed to you, didn’t it? I remember you 
were very cool and quiet, and I suppose you thought 
it very foolish — one of those unnecessary, extrava- 
gant emotions in which we inferior races are apt to 
indulge !’ 

‘Stop!’ Rallywood cut her short with a peremp- 
tory word, ‘I will not allow you to say such things 
of yourself nor — of me !’ 

Valerie threw back her head with the slight 
haughty lift he knew so well. 

‘You are rather too certain of your own power,’ 
she said. 

‘You say you remember that night? — not so well 
as I do ? You think I am very sure of myself. And 
yet I have been mistaken on points that touch me 


LOVE IN TWO SHADES. 1 47 

close. I thought that night when I knew I might 
never see the morning — I dared to fancy that we — 
you and I — understood each other — a little.’ He 
waited, but Valerie had turned away; her profile 
looked exquisite, but cold, against the dark shutter 
as she watched the driving snow. ‘So I was the fool 
after all, you see !’ he ended lamely. 

According to the immemorial fashion of love, they 
understood and misunderstood each other alternately 
playing high and low at every other moment upon 
the wide gamut of feeling, touching faint sweet notes 
that would echo for ever. 

Rallywood’s self-control was giving way a little, 
and she instinctively felt her power and used it. 

‘I wonder what you really think of us behind that 
quiet alertness of yours,’ she said lightly, ‘I believe 
I did imagine I — understood you a little that night; 
but I imagine it no longer ! Perhaps I misjudge you 
now, but it cannot matter; you told me once you 
knew how to wait, and of course you are certain that 
all unfair opinions of you must come right in the 
end.’ 

But Rallywood passed over her many sentences to 
seize the central idea that appealed to him. 

‘Yes, I have learned to wait. I told you that 
everything comes to him who waits. Unfortunately 
a proverb is true often, not always. One thing can 
never come to me however long I wait. For me 
there is no hope.’ 

‘I don’t know what you hope for,’ replied the girl. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


148 

slowly, as if she were choosing her words; but she 
hardly knew what she said, she was lost in a multi- 
tude of dreams, and her words but filled in the rare 
crevices between them. ‘I thought that every man 
carried his own fate in his own hand.’ 

'A man can fight the tangible, but no man can 
struggle against the ordinary laws of social life. 
We may laugh at conventional methods, but even in 
Revonde there are some which must be yielded to.’ 

'I don’t think,’ said Valerie, ‘we yield to many in 
Revonde.’ 

Rallywood saw a group of people advancing to- 
wards them. Valerie, with her changes of mood and 
manner, distracted him, and drove him on to say 
what he had resolved never to be tempted into say- 
ing. 

‘I am a soldier — only a soldier ; I gain a livelihood, 
but no more. I have no luck and no genius. To 
make a fortune or a name is beyond me. And 
without fortune many desirable things are impos- 
sible.’ 

Valerie turned upon him a bewildering smile. 

‘I shall know for the future, Captain Rallywood, 
what you are thinking of. You will be thinking, for 
all those grave eyes of yours, of the fortune you can- 
not make !’ 

‘Not quite that. Mademoiselle,’ he answered, ‘I 
shall be thinking of the girl I cannot win.’ 

Valerie found herself drawn away from him by 
the passing group. She was aware of a warm throb 


LOVE IN TWO SHADES. 


149 

at her heart, she was trembling a little, and the fear 
of the morning had temporarily vanished. For no 
definite reason which she could afterwards discover, 
she felt suddenly happy. 

By evening the tsa had blown away the snow- 
clouds for the time, and a thin moon gleamed fitfully 
over the wide expanses of white. Remote, muffled in 
leagues of snow, and alive with hungry passions and 
unscrupulous strength, the Castle of Sagan did not, 
on that wild January night, offer desirable housing 
to the Grand Duke of Maasau. He had yet some 
thirty hours to spend as his cousin’s guest before he 
could return to his capital without showing suspi- 
cion or giving offence. A hundred times he wished 
himself back in his great palace by the river bank 
where the squadrons of the Guard lay within call. 
But he bore himself well notwithstanding, and al- 
though, on the plea of chill and fatigue, he kept to 
his rooms more than usual, his short appearances in 
public left in one sense nothing to be desired. He 
did not carry himself a3 a man in mortal anxiety, but 
was as dissatisfied, as discourteous, and as disagree- 
able as it was his custom to be. 

Late in the afternoon Madame de Sagan retired 
to take some rest before dinner. Wrapped in lace 
and silk, she was standing in front of her mirror with 
her women about her, when the Count entered. At 
his first imperious word the attendants vanished. 

Isolde continued to stare into the glass like one 
fascinated, for in it she not only saw the reflection of 


150 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

her own slender white-clad figure, but over her 
shoulder the fierce face she dreaded. 

For a long minute husband and wife remained 
reading each other’s faces in the looking-glass. 

She had seen aversion and menace in the Count’s 
lowering face many a time before, and was at length 
beginning to believe the almost impossible fact to be 
true, that a man lived who hated her, over whom 
her beauty had no power. 

The young Countess shivered in mortal terror. 

^Simon,’ she wailed suddenly, ‘you are changed, 
— ^you do not love me any more !’ 

A broad smile flitted across the savage old face. 

‘You are a fool, but a very pretty fool, Isolde, and 
for that a man might forgive you many things. 
Now listen to me. After you retire to your rooms 
for the night, keep close to them, no matter what you 
hear. There may be a disturbance, and you had 
better have Selpdorf’s daughter to keep you com- 
pany.’ His expression changed as he spoke of 
Valerie. 

‘There is danger,’ she gasped, ‘danger. What 
is it, oh, tell me what it is !’ Her first fear leaping 
towards Rallywood. 

He stared into her shrinking eyes. 

If you ever hope to be Duchess of Maasau,’ he 
answered significantly, ‘leave Valerie’s lovers, 
Unziar and the Englishman, to take care of them- 
selves. Keep your tongue silent ! Remember !’ 


LOVE IN TWO SHADES. I 5 I 

He caught her slender wrist roughly as he spoke and 
pressed it to enforce the command. 

The Countess made no reply, but her fingers closed 
in upon her palms. 

'Come, give me a kiss, and promise me to do so 
much towards making yourself a Grand Duchess.' 
He brushed her lips carelessly with his moustache. 

The caress brought no response; but as he bent 
over her she whispered, 'Have mercy on me Simon !' 
(it was a prayer born rather of some vague instinct 
of danger than any defined fear) ; 'don’t kill me!’ 

He put his thick arm round her and shook her 
impatiently. 

'Kill you, Isolde? Are you mad? You are far 
more useful to me living than dead. Get rid of your 
silly fears, and remember — silence I’ 

Then putting her back on the couch with more 
gentleness than might have been expected of him, 
he walked out of the room. For a little while she 
sat listening, then opened her eyes and glanced about 
her. Yes, he was gone. But it was characteristic 
of her that at such a time her chief and overpowering 
thought was Valerie as a rival! 'Valerie’s lovers, 
Unziar and the Englishman!’ A score of trifles 
rushed back upon her memory; but no it could not 
be. It was one of the Count’s amiable ways to 
suggest causes of jealousy to his wife. He meant 
nothing, for what could he know? The soothing 
conviction grew upon her that the taunt was thrown 
at her for what it was worth. Oh, how she hated 


152 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Sagan — hated his bloodshot, beast’s eyes, his mock- 
ing laugh, his cruel hands, his crueller gibes ! 

She pushed back the lace from her wrist and saw 
the thin parallels of bruised flesh his fingers had 
left — entirely unaware, it must be owned — upon her 
whiteness. Ah, she would show these to Rally- 
wood — as a proof that she was in danger, that she 
actually needed his protection, and so win him from 
his post, which to-night would become the post of 
death. 

All her little vain soul thrilled within her at the 
possibility of triumph — of defeating the honour of 
such a man — of winning him from his watch for 
love’s sake — of overcoming the scruples that had for 
so long a time stood out against her wiles. 

And yet in her poor way she loved him — loved 
him as she would probably never love another. Some 
women are made in that way, they take pride in the 
loftiness of the height from which they drag men 
down. Then he must be saved, she told herself, at 
all costs saved ! He would live to thank her yet. A 
thought of him lying dead in his blood by the dark 
embrasure that masked the entrance to the royal 
apartments flashed acrosss her mind. She stretched 
out her arms with a soft call like a bird’s. 

‘Oh, love, love, I will save you !’ 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HALF A PROMISE. 

Ten minutes later a big emblazoned footman 
brought Rallywood a summons from the Countess, 
as he stood talking to Counsellor and the Russian 
attache. 

As he moved away Blivinski placed a bony im- 
pressive finger on Counsellor’s sleeve. 

Tf he were not English, you could not trust him,’ 
he said enigmatically. 

Counsellor raised his bushy eyebrows, with a 
humorous glance. ‘We have had our day.’ 

‘Ah, my friend, you know most things. Also I 
know a very few,’ Blivinski said significantly, ‘but 
with your nation patriotism is not a virtue, it is a part 
of your physical system. You sacrifice all for your 
country, not because it is right to do so, but simply 
because you cannot help it ; the good God made you 
so. Therefore this young man, in face of the su- 
preme temptation of youth, may be trusted. I speak 
of these things now because you will remember, in 
good time, that those who are against you will not 
dare to injure’ — he removed the finger to his own 
breast — ‘us also !’ 

And the little silent swarthy man slipped away 
153 


I 54 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

almost before Counsellor realised that Russia, the 
mighty, had given him a pledge which might prove 
of immense value in the uncertain future. 

Rallywood found the young Countess crouching 
and shivering near a wood fire. She was magnifi- 
cently dressed in rich tones of royal purple, that 
accentuated her delicate fairness and beauty, and a 
small diadem of amethysts shone in the pale gold of 
her hair. 

She took no notice of his entrance, though she 
was acutely conscious that his eyes were on her. 
She was hungry of his gaze, and she believed in the 
power of her own loveliness. 

'Jack,’ she said at last, 'come here. I wonder now 
why I sent for you, but I am miserable.’ 

She looked up at him heavy-lidded. 

There was concern in his voice as he answered 
her. 

'If I told you all,’ she went on, 'you would not 
believe me. I am now — to-night — in great danger.’ 

'In danger? Here? where you are surrounded 
by friends,’ replied Rallywood, beginning to wish 
himself well out of it. Had there been no Valerie 
Selpdorf, or even had he not uttered those impulsive 
words which, to his mind, changed his position from 
the indefinite to the definite, the history of his life 
might have been turned into another channel that 
evening. As it was, though Valerie remained free 
as the wind, he felt himself to be in some vague 
manner bound to her. 


HALF A PROMISE. I 55 

‘Nonsense! You know how useless all these 
friends would be if things went wrong with me. 
They flatter the Countess of Sagan, but not one of 
them would make the smallest sacrifice for Isolde, 
the woman. I do not know if you, even you, are my 
friend. We talked about it — long ago. But I have 
not put you to the test, and I — I often wonder if our 
friendship still remains alive.’ 

‘I am as I always was,’ he parried. 

‘I wonder if that is true?’ She raised her droop- 
ing face again. ‘I don’t know how to believe you. 
Why will you keep up this pretence of — of reserve 
between us? You never tell me your troubles, and I 
suppose you have them, like the rest of us. We 
should be quite old friends now, and yet you are 
always so’ — she hesitated for a word — ‘courteous. 
Are you ever angry, for example?’ 

‘Very often.’ 

‘But not with me, and I have given you cause 
many a time. If you would be angry with me even 
once, Jack, causelessly angry, then I should know I 
had a friend to whom I could go if I were in trouble 
— in such trouble as I am to-night !’ 

‘If there is anything I can do for you ’ 

The quiet tone annoyed her. She rose quickly. 

‘If — if — if! Any man could help me who — 
cared.’ 

‘I do care.’ 

T wonder,’ she said wistfully, ‘how much you 
mean of what you say. I have no standard to judge 


156 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

you by, because you are not quite like other men. 
But I owe you my life, and I sometimes think it gives 
me a claim on you.’ 

‘I can never pretend you owe me anything: you 
were quite safe; no accident could have happened. 
You are far too good a horsewoman, though you 
were nervous for the moment.’ He spoke with a 
careless affectionateness, for the young Countess in 
her helpless beauty appealed to him. 

Took at me!’ she said tragically. ^Do I seem 
hateful ?’ 

‘You are a young queen,’ he paused, and added, 
‘a young queen — seen in a dream! You are too 
ethereal to be of common earth.’ 

‘I am of common earth like any other woman,’ 
she answered with a forlorn little smile; ‘I can be 
afraid and — I can love !’ 

‘Afraid? In your own Castle, among your own 
people ?’ 

‘Yes, Jack. Don’t think I am silly! It is quite 
true. You say you have not changed, that you are 
still my friend. You are my only one then ! I must 
look to you for protection ; I have no one else in the 
whole world.’ She was very near him, her little 
cold hand had caught his in her vehemence; she 
looked apprehensively behind her, and then spoke 
low in his ear. ‘I am afraid of my husband. He 
wishes to be rid of me — I have seen it in his eyes. 
Sagan will kill me ! Do you remember the night of 
the ball, when I gave you the firefly? Have you 


HALF A PROMISE. 


157 

kept it, I wonder? I said mine would be a short 
life. It is true. Sagan is tired of me, and I — ^Jack, 
I — loathe him !’ 

‘But ’ Rallywood began. 

‘You don’t believe me? See this!’ she pushed 
back a band of black velvet from her arm, and held 
it out to him. This touched him more than all ; the 
slender blue-veined wrist with the marks of those 
cruel fingers clasped about it moved him far more 
than the temptations of her delicate beauty. With 
an almost involuntary desire to comfort her as one 
might comfort and please a child, he bent above her 
hand and kissed the bruises. 

Isolde clung to him with a quick sob of relief. 

‘Promise me. Jack, that you will save me I When 
danger threatens me I will send for you. You will 
come? You promise?’ 

But Rallywood was not in the least in love with 
Madame de Sagan for all his pity. He was again 
master of himself, and an odd suspicion flashed 
across him. 

‘I feel certain you are mistaken,’ he repeated ; ‘but 
you have another friend who can be of more service 
than I just now. Mademoiselle Selpdorf.’ 

The Countess sank back into her chair. 

‘What do you know of Valerie?’ she asked coldly. 

‘Very little, but ’ 

‘Thanks I I know her better than you do. I don’t 
choose that she should amuse herself at my expense. 


158 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

As it is, she has brought most of this trouble upon 
me.^ 

Rallywood may have been sagacious enough on 
some points, but on this particular one he was a fool. 
He was not at all aware that Madame de Sagan 
with her innocent eyes and small brain was sifting 
him. 

‘But she meant to defend you !’ he exclaimed. 

She laughed softly, and if a woman could have 
compassed the ruin of a man by means of love and 
temptation, Rallywood was lost from that hour, for 
the rivalry of Valerie Selpdorf added the one incen- 
tive of bitter resolve that drives such slight-brained 
jealous souls to the last limit of reckless endeavour. 

‘When I find myself in danger I will remind you 
of the firefly, and you will come then. Jack !’ she said, 
‘you promise ?’ 

‘When you want me, I will come — as soon as I 
may.’ 

‘But that is only half a promise.’ 

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but you know the other half is 
pledged already.’ 

She sprang up with clenched hands. 

‘What ? To V alerie ? Already ?’ 

‘No, Madame, to the Duke.’ 

‘Ah, the Duke is well served!’ she said sadly as 
he bowed at the door, but she laughed to herself 
when it closed behind him, ‘Yet you will come when 
I send for you. Jack 1’ 


CHAPTER XV. 


COLENDORP. 

As THE night deepened the wind again rose, its 
many voices howled about the Castle and compelled 
the ear to listen. It volleyed yelling through the 
ravines, it roared among the lean pine-trees like the 
surf on an open coast, it swept round the Castle walls 
in long-drawn infuriated screaming that seemed 
charged with echoes of wild pain and remoteness 
and fear. The narrow moon had long since sunk 
behind the rack of storm-driven clouds, and left the 
mountains steeped in a tumultuous milk-coloured 
darkness of snow and wind. 

Within the massive walls the reception rooms 
were closed and empty at last; the guests had sepa- 
rated and night had taken possession, but not rest. 

Valerie, alone in her room and oppressed by the 
vague infection of wakefulness and fear, moved from 
window to window listening to the wild noises that 
were abroad, and trying to reason herself out of the 
conviction of coming danger, which held her from 
sleep. 

She had thrown back the curtains from the win- 
dows. Her room occupied an exposed corner of the 
Castle tower, which stood on the edge of the gorge 
159 


l6o A MODERN MERCENARY. 

through which the Kofn chafed its way to the plains 
below the Ford. A narrow strip of ground scarcely 
six feet in width alone separated the wall of the 
tower from the precipice that fell sheer away to the 
foaming water far below. 

She tried to read but could not fix her attention. 
Her heart seemed in her ears and answered to every 
sound. 

And all the while in the scattered rooms and 
shadowy passages the drama which involved her life 
was being slowly played out. Below on the ground 
floor of the tower Elmur and Sagan sat together. 

‘By the way, my dear Count, have you ever 
thought of the possibility of Captain Colendorp’s re- 
fusal to see things in our light?’ Elmur was asking, 
after an interval filled in by the noises of wind and 
water which could not be shut out of the Castle on 
such a night. 

The Count looked up and scowled. 

‘Leave the management of the affair to me,’ he 
said. ‘Unless I were sure of my man, I should not 
be such a fool as to bring him here to listen to what 
I shall say to him to-night;’ then he added as an 
afterthought, ‘When once we have begun, Baron von 
Elmur, there, can be no going back. Remember 
that! The game must now be played to the end, 
whatever that end is.’ 

Elmur pondered. Sagan was a bad tool, at once 
stubborn and secretive, cunning enough to recognise 
and to resent handling, thickheaded and vain enough 


COLENDORP. 


l6l 


to blunder ruinously. And Elmur found at the last 
and most important moment that for some unex- 
plained reason he had lost the whip-hand of Count 
Simon. 

Up to this interview, by alternate effrontery and 
flattery, he had kept his place in the Count’s con- 
fidence, and exerted a guiding and restraining influ- 
ence over him. Now Sagan held him at arm’s 
length, and was plainly determined to act according 
to his own judgment without consulting the German. 
The mischief had, of course, been done by the news 
of Elmur’s engagement to Selpdorf’s daughter, for 
Sagan, like others of his limited mental development, 
was sensitively suspicious. Hence the bond between 
the two men was weak, inasmuch as neither liked 
nor trusted the other, but it was strong, since both 
were tenacious and both had staked all the future 
on the chance of forcing a new regime upon Maasau 
the Free. At this crisis, however, Elmur would 
gladly have hedged or masked his position, for he 
knew himself to be overmuch at the mercy of the 
equivocal tact and discretion of his ungovernable 
coadjutor. 

T cannot help thinking that my presence at the 
outset will make Captain Colendorp shy at any pro- 
position whatever,’ said Elmur again. 

‘Do you want to draw back? You don’t wish to 
appear in the matter— is that it? By St. Anthony, 
von Elmur, you showed me the road that has brought 
me to this pass and you will have to stand by me 


i 62 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


now ! Also you are wrong about Coletldorp. 
When he sees for himself that I have Germany be- 
hind me, it will decide his doubts — if he has any, 
which I don’t expect. I have read the man. He is 
soured and ill-conditioned, the readiest stuff to make 
a rebel and a traitor of !’ 

What more Elmur might have urged was cut short 
by the entrance of Colendorp. He had left his 
sword outside. 

He saluted Sagan in his stiff punctilious way, his 
dark and sallow face impenetrable. 

‘I am glad to see you. Captain Colendorp,’ said 
Sagan with some constraint. Even he felt the check 
of the man’s iron impassiveness. 

‘You sent for me, my lord,’ returned Colendorp, 
as one who hints that time is short and he would be 
through with business. 

‘Take a cigar,’ said the Count, pushing a box 
across the table, and also pouring out a generous 
glass of the liqueur, for the manufacture of which 
Maasau is famous — the golden glittering poison 
known as hizutte. 

Colendorp accepted both in silence, but took a 
seat with a certain slow unwillingness that was sug- 
gestive. Colendorp was at the best unpliable. His 
manner put an edge on Sagan’s temper. He plunged 
into his subject. 

‘Yes, I sent for you. Captain Colendorp, because 
I believe you to be a faithful Maasaun. You are not 
one of those blind optimists who say because Maasau 


COLENDORP. 


163 

has been swinging so long between ruin and extrava- 
gance that she must swing on so for ever. It is not 
possible !’ 

‘I am sorry to hear that, my lord.' 

‘No, I say it is not possible. Changes must be 
made. In these days of big armaments and growing 
kingdoms, Maasau can no longer stand alone. She 
must secure an ally, a friend powerful enough to 
back her up against all comers — a great nation who 
will make the cause of Maasau’s freedom her own, 
and help us to preserve the traditions of our coun- 
try.' 

Elmur half expected the soldier to point this 
speech for himself by a glance towards the represent- 
ative of Germany, but Colendorp sat unresponsive 
and black-browed, and gave no sign. 

‘There is a party among us who advise us to wait 
until we are forced into a corner, and then to make 
choice of such an ally. But reasonable men know 
that a bargain one is driven to make must inevitably 
be a bad bargain. The only hope for Maasau is to 
move at once and to move boldly before it is too 
late, and while we are still in a position to choose 
for ourselves under the conditions which suit us best 
and will best conduce to the preservation of our free- 
dom.' 

Colendorp listened without any change of expres- 
sion. 

‘What is your opinion. Captain Colendorp ?’ asked 
Sagan at last. 


164 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘The only difficulty would be to land a nation suf- 
ficiently disinterested for our purpose, my lord,’ re- 
plied Colendorp deliberately. 

‘I have found one.’ Sagan indicted Elmur, but 
the Guardsman still kept his gaze on the Count. 
‘Only one small obstacle stands in the way of carry- 
ing out our plans — the plans, recollect, of the wisest 
and most patriotic of our countrymen. I need not 
name it.’ 

Colendorp apparently thought for a moment. 

‘M. Selpdorf ?’ he said. 

‘But not at all ! Selpdorf is one of the foremost 
of my advisers.’ 

Colendorp shook his head as if no other name 
occurred to him; Sagan bent across the table, the 
knotted hand on which he leaned twitching slightly. 

‘You do not speak, but you know the truth. And 
you know the — the Duke.’ 

Colendorp’s silence was telling on Sagan’s self- 
control. 

‘Yes, the Duke!’ he reiterated. ‘He has never 
given a thought to the welfare of Maasau. Its rev- 
enues are his necessity, that is all! If the ruler will 
not take the interests of the country into considera- 
tion, his people must supply his place. Do not mis- 
understand my words !’ for at length a blacker frown 
passed over the iron face of the listener. ‘My mean- 
ing is not to hurt the Duke at all ; our one wish is to 
urge upon him the only course left for the safety of 
the country. To that end we must all combine. So 


COLENDORP. 


165 

long as his Highness believes he can depend on his 
Guard to back him, he will hold out against even the 
most reasonable demands. Therefore the Guard 
must be with us.' 

T am not the colonel of the Guard,' said Colen- 
dorp quietly. Sagan took this in some form as an 
agreement with his views, some surrender on the 
part of the Guardsman, and he broke out into a flood 
of speech. 

‘No, but Wallenloup ! A pig-headed old fool, who 
would never be brought to see an inch either side of 
his oath of allegiance, but would rush blindly on 
before the Duke to his death, and to the destruction 
of Maasau — to anywhere! Colendorp, Ulm being 
away, you are the senior officer, failing Wallenloup. 
It is not outside the possibilities of the game that 
you would find yourself in command of the Guard 
when all was said and done. The highest ambition 
of a Maasaun is yours if you will promise us your 
help in this struggle ! A struggle, mind you, not of 
selfish motives nor for self-aggrandisement, but for 
Maasau the Free!' He stuttered in his eagerness 
and then stood waiting for the reply. 

‘And if the Duke does not consent to — any — 
changes ?' asked Colendorp coldly. 

At this juncture Elmur interposed. 

‘The Count will ex ' 

But Sagan was rushing his fences now like a 
vicious horse. Having once given voice to his 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


1 66 

ambitions he had no longer the power to rein in his 
speech. 

‘By your leave, Baron von Elmur, I will speak! 
Colendorp, you are a man to whom the world may 
yet give much. Your one chance is being offered to 
you — here — to-night. The men will follow you if 
you give the word, and Wallenloup, well, Wallen- 
loup must upon that occasion absent himself. Use 
your influence with the other officers. They are not 
to be bribed, of course, but in the cause of the coun- 
try each man would find his services well rewarded. 
Think before you answer me, man ! Duke Gustave 
is sunk in pleasure and has sold the country over and 
over again to the highest bidder, and only got out of 
his share of the bargain by Selpdorf’s infernal clever- 
ness. This time we will play an open game. With 
Germany to stand by us, we have nothing to fear I’ 

‘And if His Highness will not consent to these 
changes?’ again demanded Colendorp. 

‘Then’ — Elmur laid a hand on the old man’s shoul- 
der, but Sagan shook it off — ‘then, Captain Colen- 
dorp, he must go — to make room for another who 
can better fill his place! Just as Wallenloup must 
go to give room to another and less obstructive 
chief.’ 

Colendorp’s dark eyes glared straight in front of 
him. Had it been Adiron — Adiron, as true a man, 
would have feigned agreement and blown the p\}ot 
afterwards. But never Colendorp! He was nar- 
row-minded, poor, embittered, scenting insult in 


COLENDORP. 


167 

every careless word, proud, loyal, desperate. Men- 
tally his vision was limited; he could see but one 
thing at a time, but he saw it very large. 

Sagan’s treachery passed by him in that moment 
of mad feeling. He felt and felt only the deadly 
affront offered to him of all the officers of the Guard 
— the coarse bribe of the colonelcy dangled before his 
starving nose, for he alone of all the Guard had been 
deemed corruptible! The thought held more than 
the bitterness of death. 

He looked from wall to wall, and knew himself 
an unarmed man, so he made ready to die as a 
soldier and a gentleman. But first he must clear his 
tarnished honour — tarnished with the foul proposal 
made to him by Count Simon of Sagan. He had 
passed through life a cold and, in his own sense of 
the word, an honourable man, disliked, feared and 
avoided outside his own most intimate circle. He 
had been driven by the irresistible destiny of charac- 
ter to live a lonely man, and now the strength of a 
lonely man was his — the strength that can make an 
unknown death a glory for the sake of honour, not 
honours. So he spoke. 

‘You were very good. Count Sagan, to make 
choice of me before all the Guard for — this !’ he said 
in his cold voice; ‘may I ask why you so favoured 
me?’ 

‘Because I can read a man.’ 

‘And you read me so? Then hear me. I take 
the place you have given me. I take my place as 


1 68 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

the least staunch of all the Guard. You have told 
me so much, unmasked so clearly what you intend 
to do, that, unless I fall in with your wishes, I can 
never hope to leave this room except feet foremost. I 
say this. Now see me act as the least staunch of the 
Guard !’ 

Without warning he leaped upon Sagan, hurling 
him backwards with the force of the sudden impact, 
and buried his fingers in the grey bristling beard. 
He had but his bare hands with which to slay the 
enemy of the Duke, and used them with the strength 
of envenomed pride. Sagan, under the iron 
throttling fingers snatched at his hunting-knife and 
stabbed fiercely upwards between the bent arms at 
the Guardsman’s throat. 

Inside the room the heavy breathing and strug- 
gling of the men on the floor seemed to Elmur loud 
enough to alarm the whole Castle, in spite of the 
furious screaming of the gale. He sprang to the 
writhing heap and tried to pinion Colendorp, but as 
he touched him the wounded man fell back. In a 
moment Sagan was on his feet calling on Elmur to 
bring the lamp. He seized Colendorp under the 
arm and shoved him roughly towards the wall, where 
throwing back a curtain he opened a door and thrust 
the tottering figure before him down a short flight 
of steps. Then another door was opened and the tsa 
swept in with a wild yell, for a moment holding up- 
right the failing man who staggered out on to the 


COLENDORP. 


169 

snowy terrace, making a tragic centre to the flicker- 
ing path of light cast by the lamp in Elmur’s hand. 

For an instant Colendorp stood swaying on the 
yielding snow by the edge of the precipice, and as 
he swayed his voice climbed through his broken 
throat — 

‘Maasau the Free! Long live the Duke! The 
Duke’s man . . . I . . . Colendorp of ’ 

The wind had lulled for a second. Again the 
mad blast caught and wrenched Colendorp’ s figure, 
the snow gave between his feet, and he plunged 
forward heavily into the gorge of the Kofn river. 
The broken snow, whirled up in a great cloud by the 
eddying gusts, shone in the lamplight for a second 
like a wild toss of spray, then settled again upon the 
narrow terrace, obliterating all marks there. A 
window overhead was pushed open, but already the 
band of light upon the snow was gone, and nothing 
remained for Valerie’s eyes but a chaos of gloom. 
Yet she had seen something. Dimly through the 
double glass she had discerned the green and gold of 
the Guard on the swaying figure before it dropped 
away for ever into the night. 


CHAPTER XVL 


VlTH YOUR LIPS TO THE HURT/ 

A FEW minutes later a knocking came to Madame 
de Sagan’s door. It was low and urgent. She ran 
to open it, her heart in her throat. A hand pushed 
her aside with the rough careless force of full con- 
trol. She recoiled with an exclamation, for a glance 
showed her that the Count was in one of his most 
deadly moods. 

‘What have you done — where is Selpdorf’s daugh- 
ter ?’ he snarled. 

As Madame de Sagan shrank from the menacing 
hand the door opened a second time, and Valerie 
herself stumbled in with a bloodless face. 

At the sight of the Count, she drew herself to- 
gether like one who faces an unexpected peril. 

T apologise for coming, but I am frightened. The 
storm is dreadful. So I came to you, Isolde.’ 

Isolde put out her arms with a sobbing cry. 

T am frightened, too,’ she said with a swift resent- 
ful glance at her husband; T was coming for you. 
Stay with me, Valerie ; I will not be left alone !’ 

Sagan looked from one to the other of the two 
beautiful faces, and a sensation of surprised dismay, 
to which he was a stranger, arose in his mind. 

170 


"with your lips to the hurt/ I 7 I 

Hitherto women had been to him possessions, not 
problems. Now a very ancient truth burst in upon 
him with all the force of a revelation. To own a 
woman is not always to understand her. The un- 
expected defiance on his wife’s face confounded him. 

‘Isolde !’ he began, stepping towards her. 

But the young Countess clung to Valerie. 

‘Stay with me, Valerie!’ she implored. ‘I am far 
more frightened than you, for I know what there is 
to fear.’ . 

With a loud curse of bewilderment he strode out, 
banging the door behind him. Isolde sprang to it, 
slipping the bolts with trembling fingers. Then she 
threw herself upon a couch and broke into pitiful 
sobbing. 

Valerie stood looking down at her in an agony 
of suspense, yet remembering that self-control is the 
chief rule of every game. Presently she put her 
hand on Isolde’s shoulder. The young Countess 
started up with a suppressed scream. ‘I had for- 
gotten you were there. Valerie, he will murder me! 
He hates me ! Oh, I have no one to save me !’ 

Valerie looked round. After the scene she had 
just witnessed, this suggestion did not sound so wild 
as it would have done at another time. 

‘You are nervous, Isolde; one could fancy any- 
thing on such a night,’ she said soothingly. 

‘Have you lived so long in Maasau without know- 
ing that here at Sagan everything is possible? He 
threatens me, and oh, my God, what shall I do ?’ 


172 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Valerie sat down beside her and put a steady 
hand upon her arm. She had her own object in this 
visit, but it must be approached with caution. 

‘I am here. I will help you!’ she said reassur- 
ingly. 

Isolde sat up and put her arm round her compan- 
ion’s shoulders. 

‘I must trust you — though Valerie, there is 

one person who might be able to help me to-night,’ 
she whispered close to the girl’s ear. 'He might 
save me. But he must come to me — here — now! 
I dare not leave this room. Simon ’ she shiv- 

ered. 

‘Who is it?’ a new coldness crept into Valerie’s 
voice as she listened. 

‘Can you not guess? It is Captain Rally wood.’ 

Valerie had braced herself to meet this, and it 
only added proof to her own fears for his safety. 
Come what might, she would undertake any message 
from Isolde to get the opportunity of warning the 
Duke’s guard of the coming danger, and to tell the 
fate of that gallant figure tossing to and fro in 
the battering rush of the Kofn. She drew herself 
away from Isolde’s embrace with a shudder. 

‘What is the matter with you?’ Isolde peered up 
at her with a quick scrutiny. ‘You are shaking all 
over. Valerie, is it because of him?’ 

‘I am very cold, returned the girl with a smile. 
‘I am quite willing to bring — Captain Rallywood. 
But where is he?’ 


VlTH YOUR LIPS TO THE HURT/ 1 73 

‘He is on guard in the Duke’s ante-room.’ She 
turned her head away. 

‘Then, Isolde, you know it is impossible! He 
cannot cornel’ 

‘Even if it costs my life?’ said the Countess bit- 
terly. ‘Oh, how cheap you hold other people’s lives, 
Valerie I You are a true Maasaun !’ 

Valerie thought a moment. The request of 
Madame de Sagan fell in with her own plan. It 
would enable her to solve the doubt that was agonis- 
ing her; yet if she found him safe, how could she 
lend herself to tempt him to his own dishonour ? A 
cruel question rose within her. Should she put him 
to the supreme test of life and love — would she not 
rather know him dead in the cold river, than living 
and false to her dim ideal of him ? 

‘There is no time to spare.’ Isolde’s voice broke 
in upon her. ‘If you could make him know the dan- 
ger I stand in, he must come! Remind him of his 
promise to me.’ 

‘But if he will not come?’ Valerie forced the 
words. 

‘Then ask him to give you the cigarette case of 
Maasaun leatherwork. That will remind him of 
many things. But he will come,’ she ended more 
confidently. 

Valerie rose. 

‘I am ready. I know the passages are watched. 
I saw no one, yet I felt the shadows were full of 
eyes. Lend me your sable cloak, Isolde; everyone 


I 74 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

will recognize that, and with this lace about my 
head, I shall be free to go where I please as the Coun- 
tess Sagan.' 

‘Valerie’ — Madame de Sagan held the girl back 
— ‘listen to me, you must make him come ! I must 
tell you all. Rallywood is in danger, nothing can 
save him unless you separate him from the Duke 
’ she stopped panting, then bared her arm. ‘Re- 
mind him how he promised me — with his lips upon 
the hurt ! Now go !’ 

The next second Valerie Selpdorf found herself 
alone in the dim corridor, in which the lights burned 
low. She stood quite still, the shock of the last sen- 
tence ‘with his lips upon the hurt’ still ringing in her 
ears. Rallywood! Rallywood with the clear grey 
eyes and that look in them which remained persist- 
ently in her memory. Her father had taught her to 
suspect the whole world. But she had chosen to 
think differently of this man, even when she told her- 
self she hated him. Different from others — exempt 
from the universal stain of hypocrisy — one to be 
trusted, if it were possible to trust any. Then she 
turned upon herself. After all had he deceived her, 
had she not rather deceived herself? He had spok- 
en openly to her of his despairing secret, of the wo- 
man he could never hope to win. And she had con- 
cluded what? Nothing definite, but there had been 
a dim thought. Oh, it was unbearable! But why 
did she linger to think of this, while Maasau itself 
was in danger. 


VlTH YOUR LIPS TO THE HURT/ I 75 

She hurried along the passages, moving with a 
soft swiftness of silken garments, and as she passed 
the hidden eyes of the watchers looked out after the 
muffled figure. Madame de Sagan was free to come 
and go. 

From the head of the great staircase a narrow 
corridor branched away to the Duke’s quarters. A 
very dim light shone from the embrasure at the end 
as she hurried along and, before she could stop her- 
self, she ran right into the arms of a tall man who 
was coming out towards her. 

He put her gently back against the wall and looked 
at her, but the lace was drawn close about her face. 

*I must pass,’ she said. 

The man’s back was to the light, but she knew 
the shape of the head and shoulders. 

‘No one can pass, Madame.’ 

The relief of knowing Rally wood was safe jarred 
in her mind with the hideous suspicion that Isolde’s 
allurements had after all conquered his allegiance to 
the Duke. He clearly recognised the cloak and be- 
lieved her to be the Countess. She would have been 
more than woman not to take advantage of the mis- 
take. She bent forward a little. 

‘Come with me,’ she whispered. 

‘I cannot.’ 

‘Do you forget your promise?’ 

‘Under the circumstances’ — he glanced back at the 
Duke’s door — ‘you know I could make none.’ 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


176 

'But I am in danger — and you promised, surely 
you promised, with your lips there !' 

Rallywood stared at the shapely hand and firm 
white wrist thrust out from the dark sables, with a 
great leap at his heart. The sight took him una- 
wares. 

'Valerie!’ he exclaimed. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


IRIS. 

From its beetling crags the Castle of Sagan looked 
out that night with many luminous eyes over the 
crowding black pine woods and away across the 
frost-bound, melancholy marshes of the frontier. 
The renewed violence of the storm had not abated, 
and the wind moaned about the old walls. 

There was one in Sagan that night to whom the 
wind had an old yet new story to tell. The Duke 
had heard it in his cradle even in the summer palace 
where he was born; during later years his dulled 
senses paid little heed to that wild singing, and, in 
truth, passing most of his life as he now preferred 
to do in the low-lying sheltered palace at Revonde, 
where the state apartments were well within the 
towering mass of masonry, and protected on the 
river side by the Cloister of St. Anthony, he seldom 
heard its voice. So that to-night, while the tsa 
whimpered and clamoured about the exposed but- 
tresses and towers of Sagan, it sounded to his ears 
like the calling of some long-dead friend, a wraith 
belonging to his lost youth. Sleeping memories 
awoke and troubled him; he fancied he had read a 
vague menace in Count Simon’s bloodshot eyes, and 

177 


178 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

every little incident that had taken place since his 
arrival now assumed strange and malign meanings. 

He looked around the great vaulted chamber op- 
pressed by a presentiment of danger, and tried to 
still his jangled nerves. For with the instinct of 
failing mastership he resolved to think out some 
scheme of defence and a spontaneous policy, by 
which he might not only defeat his enemies, but out- 
wit and overwhelm his rebellious servants. 

Selpdorf — was he also false and self-seeking? 
For more years than he cared to remember the Duke 
had forced this man to enact the part of virtual ruler 
of the State, always believing in his loyalty — if not 
to Gustave of Maasau, at least to Maasau the Free. 
Any dimmest doubt of Selpdorf’s patriotism had 
never during all that period entered into the sod- 
dened brain of his master. But to-night, as the 
Duke recalled the half- jesting proposal to disband 
the Guard, made by the Chancellor on the day of the 
review, and added to that hint the pregnant signifi- 
cance of Valerie's speech, he realised that evil days 
were overtaking him, that his most trusted minister 
had been bid for and bought by his foes, and that 
it now behoved him to strike out a personal policy, 
whereby he should secure strong friends and sup- 
porters to aid him in the coming struggle against 
these traitors. 

He had retired to his room at an early hour un- 
der the plea of weariness. He was, as a matter of 
fact, worn out by the flood of fears and anxieties 


IRIS. 


179 

that Valerie’s one reckless sentence had let loose up- 
on him. So long was it since he had placed these 
weightier matters of diplomacy and government in 
other hands, that the renewed sense of responsibility 
and the imminent need for action seemed to be 
crushing in his brain. But the instinct of self-pres- 
ervation, backed by the one kingly attribute left him 
— love of his country — strengthened him to attempt 
a final effort to combat the overpowering odds which 
he felt rather than knew to be against him. 

Tossed and harried by a hundred terrifying 
thoughts, the self-enfeebled creature broke at length 
into that dreadful crying, the scanty painful tears, 
the aching sobs, which is the weeping of age or of 
an exhausted constitution. 

When the paroxysm was over he lay back in his 
bed, absolutely drained of strength and of all power 
to think longer. Whether he dozed or not he scarce- 
ly knew, but after an interval he seemed to awake as 
if from sleep with his thoughts once more under con- 
trol. 

Oh, that he had his Guard about him! The 
Guard, always reliable and full of the old grim dash 
and power which had been the firm foundation of the 
ducal throne from the beginning. Amongst their 
ranks was no slackening of discipline, of devotion, 
or of that splendid recklessness which had made 
them what they were — the premier Garde du Corps 
of Europe! In spirit he yearned once more to see 
their plumes and gleaming equipment come dancing 


l8o A MODERN MERCENARY. 

down the sunny wind, and to hear the grand thunder 
of their charge, which but the other day he had been 
half-inclined to call stale and unprofitable. In this 
solitary hour, when the night-lamps flickered on the 
massive walls and the sense of loneliness grew upon 
him till he sickened at the unceasing cry of the pit- 
iless wind, he realised that the Guard was the sole 
bulwark now as always of Maasau. He shivered 
down among the soft coverings and listened appre- 
hensively. 

Unziar and Rallywood with two troopers watched 
in the guard-room, through which lay the only ap- 
proach to his sleeping chamber. Unziar, could Un- 
ziar be trusted? He had heard something of Un- 
ziar and that handsome vixen of Selpdorf’s. Then 
Colendorp — ah, there was no doubt there! Dark 
and resentful, his poverty and his pride were the bye- 
words of the barracks ; he, whatever the temptation, 
would never fall from honour. 

There remained Rallywood. He, too, was to be 
depended upon, the Duke decided quickly, though 
for no special reason but that he had taken some 
vague fancy to the Englishman's bronzed face and 
swinging stride. Yet Simon was powerful and un- 
scrupulous; how could this handful of men oppose 
him? 

He sprang up in his bed as the door opened and 
a man stood on the threshold. 

'Sire, there is treason I Colendorp has been mur- 
dered.' 


IRIS. 


i8i 


'Is it you, Unziar?’ The Duke’s voice came 
strangely from his pillows. ‘Send for the whole es- 
cort of the Guard from their quarters.’ 

‘Impossible, sire! The corridors are held by 
Count Sagan’s men. Mademoiselle Selpdorf has 
brought the news.’ 

‘What! You told me not two hours ago she was 
engaged to von Elmur. She is the price of Selp- 
dorf ’s treason.’ 

Unziar stepped nearer. 

‘Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already risked her life 
to warn us that we are in danger. I’d stake my soul 
she is loyal.’ 

‘Good indeed, Anthony! I’d sooner have your 
honour than your soul. But go, in the name of the 
Virgin, and since the corridors are closed to the men 
of my Guard, send the girl for Major Counsellor. 
She can but die !’ 

Unziar saluted and hurried back to the ante-room 
where Valerie and Rally wood were waiting. In 
spite -of his personal horror at the thought of her 
danger, he was well aware that only by Valerie’s aid 
could they hope to reach Counsellor. 

Valerie listened to the Duke’s order, then wrap- 
ping the lace as before about her head turned to 
Rallywood. He accompanied her through the guard- 
room and some little way along the passage. It 
seemed as if he could not let her go forth on this 
perilous enterprise. 


1 82 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘For God's sake, take care of yourself !’ he said. If 
anything were to happen to you.’ 

The prolonged excitement of events, the sense of 
responsibility and danger, the exaltation of such a 
moment must have reacted on Valerie. Whether 
prompted by some instinct of coquetry, or betrayed 
into a touch of real feeling, or perhaps moved by the 
knowledge that death stood close beside them both, 
she drew her hand from his arm and raising her face 
asked in her soft voice : 

‘Do you remember what you said to me once — on 
the night of the palace ball?’ 

He saw the deep eyes upraised to his, though their 
meaning in that dim place he could not be sure of, 
but a rush of quick memories came over him. 

‘Yes.’ 

She gave a little excited laugh. 

‘Then expect me !’ she said. And she was gone. 

When Valerie returned to Madame de Sagan half 
an hour later she was still white and breathless. 
Isolde, in a fever of impatient terror, caught her by 
the arm. 

‘Where is he? When is he coming ! Valerie — ’ 

Valerie made a supreme effort to control herself. 

‘He is on guard.’ 

‘Yes, I know. I know ! But he is coming !’ 

‘It was impossible ! He could not leave His High- 
ness. Isolde, you would not wish it !’ 

‘What does anything matter unless it’s found out ?’ 


IRIS. 


183 

cried Isolde, giving in her adherence to a common 
creed. ‘Did you give him all my message? Did 
you make him understand? Then, when all else 
failed, you asked him for the cigarette case? That 

would remind him ' Madame de Sagan spoke 

in growing agitation. 

Valerie looked into her wild eyes. 

‘I forgot that,’ she admitted. 

Isolde shook the arm she held. 

‘You have killed him! Valerie, you have been 
jealous of me, and by your jealousy you have killed 
him! Had you spoken as I told you he would be 
here now — and safe ! As it is he is lost !’ she flung 
herself down among the cushions. 

Her slender hands were clenched, her turquoise 
eyes stared wide and blind from her white face. She 
seemed to hold her breath as if waiting for the inevit- 
able blow to fall. Valerie, greatly moved, knelt down 
beside her. 

‘What does it matter if we die to-night or a month 
hence?’ Isolde spoke in a low voice; her heart had 
unconsciously been gathering up bitterness against 
Valerie, and she had no longer the strength to con- 
ceal it under this unbearable strain. ‘Valerie, you 
have stooped to meanness — you who have so scorned 
meanness in others. You knew long ago what — 
Rally wood’s love was to me. You have known my 
life, and much that I have to bear. Amongst all who 
pretend to love me there is not one like him, not one ! 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


184 

He would be always kind and true. I think these 
are English qualities, for in another way there is 

Major Counsellor ’ the weary voice broke off as 

if too tired for more. 

It was well Counsellor never heard that little ex- 
pression of opinion concerning himself; it might 
have proved the thorn in a somewhat callous diplo- 
matic memory. 

‘You have betrayed me ! You !’ she repeated with 
a bitter laugh; then, springing up, she ran towards 
the spot where her sables lay heaped upon the floor 
just as Valerie had dropped them from her shoul- 
ders. 

‘It may be too late, but I will go myself. I will 
save him if I can !’ 

Valerie wrapped the cloak around her. 

‘Isolde, I will go with you.’ 

‘You!’ Isolde turned with a startling look of 
dislike and suspicion. ‘No, I hate you, and I choose 
to go alone !’ 

Valerie drew back and Madame de Sagan passed 
her by and flung wide the door. As she did so a 
confused noise could be heard, and the two women 
stood listening while a distant hubbub of voices rose 
louder, then a pistol shot followed by others echoed 
down the passages. 

‘He is dead I By your fault I’ 

Isolde turned upon Valerie with a wild gesture, as 
if she would have struck her. 


IRIS. 


185 


Valerie drew back. 

‘If you really loved him, Isolde, you would rather 
he was — there — with his honour — than — here — 
without it,' she said. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE SWORD OF UNZIAR. 

The Castle of Sagan may be roughly divided into 
three irregular parts. The massive old keep domi- 
nates all, standing high and black against the sky- 
line ; then the varied cluster of buildings immediately 
around its foot contain the principal reception and 
living rooms, and lowest of all the courtyards, 
kitchens, stables and offices. To the right of the 
keep a wing, curved like the fluke of an anchor, 
slopes down to a lower level. This portion is fairly 
modern and arranged for the housing of guests. 
The Countess's own apartments were situated at the 
junction of this wing with the main building, while 
the quarters assigned by ancient custom to the use of 
the reigning Duke during his visits to Sagan occu- 
pies the whole upper floor of an old and bulky annex 
that juts out from the base of the keep. 

The passage leading to this annex branched from 
the head of the grand staircase. Upon the landing 
rows of heavily armed men were gathering noise- 
lessly. 

As Elmur and Sagan stood together waiting at 
the mouth of the Duke’s corridor, the Count turned 
to his companion. 


THE SWORD OF UNZIAR. 1 87 

‘Have you proposals ready to lay before his High- 
ness ?’ he demanded. 

‘In form/ returned Elmur, touching his pocket. 

‘That is well, for you are about to present them. 
The Duke lies practically in my power at this 
moment,' Count Simon continued grimly. ‘Gustave 
is a coward. The way to his presence lies open, and 
I think you will agree with me that his Highness of 
Maasau will consent to most things rather than look 
the fear of death in the eyes !' 

‘There must be no violence," Elmur began. 

‘That shall be exactly as I choose,’ Sagan swore 
with an oath. ‘By the good God we can’t afford 
scruples to-night !’ 

After a short interval he went on. 

‘Once we have Gustave’s word, we are safe. He 
is too proud to own that he gave it unwillingly. 
Besides, so long as we win what matter the means 
we use ? Is your conscience so ticklish, Baron ?’ 

‘Politics have their exigencies and are inevitably 
rigorous, my lord,’ answered Elmur slowly. ‘To be 
successful means absolution. In the political courts 
where our actions will be judged they make no pro- 
vision for failure. Success is recognised and merci- 
fully considered, while failure, my lord, not being in 
any sense public, falls to the level of ordinary crime, 
and is judged by the standard applied to ordinary 
crime. Thus you will see that I risk as much in my 
place as you risk in yours.’ Perhaps this was as near 
an approach to a threat as had ever been uttered in 


1 88 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

the ears of the fierce old Count. With a violent 
movement, he stepped forward. 

‘There is no hindrance in our path that cannot be 
cut through with a sword, and, by my soul, if we find 
one I will cut it !’ Then, looking round, he gave the 
word to advance, and entered the darkness of the 
corridor. 

A turn brought them in sight of Unziar’s tall 
figure, standing sword in hand on the lowest step of 
the flight that led up to the embrasure covering the 
door leading to the royal apartments. 

Count Simon pushed Elmur ahead of him while 
he fell back to whisper a few words to the man im- 
mediately behind; then he took precedence once 
more. 

‘I request an audience of His Highness, Lieuten- 
ant Unziar,’ he said. 

‘Certainly, my lord, if you will give me the pass- 
word of the night,’ replied Unziar. 

Sagan’s answer was the countersign he had given 
to his own following in the Castle. . 

Unziar shook his head. 

‘You cannot pass, my lord.’ 

‘What — not see my guest and cousin in my own 
house ?’ 

‘His Highness gave orders that none should be 
allowed to enter without giving the countersign 
chosen by himself.’ 

Sagan considered a second or two. 

‘True, I had forgotten. Come here, Unziar; your 


THE SWORD OF UN2IAR. 189 

trooper there has long ears; I must speak with you. 
Stand back, men !’ he said roughly. ‘Baron von El- 
mur, pray remain, and you. Hern,’ addressing the 
man behind. Unziar still stood upon the step. 

‘Come here ! I tell you, man, I must see the Duke 
to-night — at once,’ continued Sagan approaching 
Unziar. ‘What the devil are you afraid of ? Unziar 
stepped down as the Count pulled him confidentially 
nearer to himself and towards the narrow entry. 
But while the Count whispered, a hand suddenly 
darted over his shoulder and seized Unziar by the 
throat, at the same moment when a well-directed 
kick from Sagan, delivered cunningly behind the 
knees, brought the young man to the ground. He 
lunged at Sagan as he fell with his sword, then it 
was knocked from his hand as his assailants 
swarmed over him, but not before he had fired his 
revolver into Hern’s body. The man fell across 
him, but Unziar again swinging clear rose on his 
elbow and sent a second shot into the face nearest 
him. Meantime the trooper at the door was making 
a gallant fight, but the odds were too great. The 
struggle was soon over, the trooper’s dead body 
flung aside, and Unziar, frantic and helpless, was 
tied hand and foot and left upon the bloody flooring 
of the outer passage while the Count’s people forced 
the door. 

This was a matter of some difficulty, but it was 
presently accomplished. The besieging party 


1 90 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

pushed through into the guard-room, which seemed 
brilliantly lit in comparison with the gloom outside. 

Most of the furniture and the screen had been 
utilised by Rallywood to make a barricade in front of 
the Duke’s ante-room. A single trooper with his 
musket levelled knelt behind it. 

Sagan, who held a handkerchief to his cheek, 
spoke loudly. 

‘Do you see who I am ? Clear the way !’ 

At this Rallywood stepped into view from behind 
the screen. 

‘The man acts under orders from his Highness, 
my lord,’ he said. 

Sagan stared at Rallywood with haughty scorn. 

‘It is of the utmost importance that I should see 
his Highness at once. Inform his Highness that I 
urgently beg to be granted an interview.’ 

With pleasure, my lord,’ returned Rallywood 
formally, ‘if you will be good enough to give me the 
password, without which it is quite impossible for 
anyone to have an audience to-night. Our orders 
were very distinct on that point. 

‘His Highness could not foresee that I’ — the Count 
dwelt upon the pronoun imperiously — ‘should desire 
one. Stand back. Captain Rallywood ! I must pass 
and am willing to take the responsibility.’ 

‘It is quite impossible, my lord,’ repeated Rally- 
wood without moving. 

‘You force me to extreme measures,’ cried Sagan. 


THE SWORD OF UNZIAR. I9I 

^Remove this man/ he ordered, ‘as quietly as may 
be. We must not alarm his Highness.' 

There was a clatter of arms as Sagan’s followers 
advanced. The foremost of them ran in upon Ral- 
lywood, the swords met, Rallywood’s sleeve was 
ripped from wrist to elbow, but his sword blade 
passed through his opponent’s shoulder. The man 
sank down in a sitting posture, coughing oddly; his 
head dropped forward. 

‘Shoot them down !’ shouted Sagan, but the words 
were still on his lips when the door behind John Ral- 
lywood slowly opened and a figure stood beside him. 

Its appearance checked the rising struggle, for 
the figure was the figure of the Grand Duke of Maa- 
sau. He was wrapped in his hooded robe of green 
velvet, and the five points of the golden star of Maa- 
sau blazed upon his breast. 

‘Cousin, I would speak with you, but these fools 
stopped me,’ exclaimed Sagan. 

The Duke turned his shadowed face and spoke to 
Rallywood in a low voice. 

‘His Highness begs you, my lord, to withdraw, 
your men,’ said Rallywood aloud. 

Sagan, scowling, ordered his men to the further 
end of the long room. Meantime Rallywood, with 
evident unwillingness, pulled away a portion of the 
barricade. Through this the Duke advanced with a 
stately deliberation, and walked slowly up to the 
Count. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


192 

With a sudden hoarse shout of triumph Sagan 
flung his great arms about the Duke’s body. 

'By St. Anthony, Gustave, no one shall stop our 
conversation now !’ 

The Duke made no attempt to release himself 
from the rough hug that held him prisoner. He 
merely raised his hood with one hand, so that Sagan, 
his coarse mouth still wide in laughter, could stare 
into the countenance not four inches from his own. 

Consternation and fury swept over the Count's 
features. From under the hood a red challenging 
face, a big white moustache, and shaggy-browed hu- 
morous eyes met his gaze. The sight held him gap- 
ing. But only for a second. Then he whipped out 
his pistol. 

‘An English plot, by Heaven !* 

But Rallywood was quicker still. A sharp knock 
on the Count’s wrist sent the bullet into the ceiling. 

‘Have a care, my lord,’ Counsellor said authorita- 
tively. ‘You cannot do as you will even in this lone- 
ly and remote room in your lonely Castle of Sagan, 
since England and — ’with a bow towards Elmur — 
‘Germany are looking on.’ 

Sagan still threatened Counsellor with the re- 
volver. 

‘Can you see any reason why I should not kill you 
as a traitor to my country at this moment. Major 
Counsellor?’ he shouted. 

‘Only one, my lord. Russia also, in the person 
of M. Blivinski, knows where I am, and is awaiting 


THE SWORD OF UNZIAR. 1 93 

my return to arrange for our journey to Revonde — 
which we propose to make in each other’s company/ 
replied Counsellor pointedly. 

Sagan burst into his habitual storm of curses. 

‘Your nation have well been called perfidious, Ma- 
jor Counsellor. A stab in the back ’ 

‘Why no, my lord,’ said Counsellor; our greatest 
vice is admittedly that we are always well in front !’ 

‘Come, Baron, have you nothing to say to this?’ 
Sagan asked, ready to spring at his friends in his 
torment of baffled rage. 

‘Nothing, my lord. You will remember I am 
here to-night entirely at your request.’ 

Sagan’s laugh was not altogether a pleasant one. 

‘Put it how you like, Monsieur, I should not have 
been here either but for you !’ 

Elmur stood with folded arms. To stoop to recrim- 
inations before the common enemy ! The cause was 
lost for the moment, but there was the future, and 
in that future the fool who figured as his ally should 
become his slave! Germany had, after all, gained 
something in gaining the knowledge of British de- 
signs afoot. 

‘Then his Highness refuses to see me, although 
he can give audience to — ^you?’ the Count at length 
broke the silence. 

‘On the contrary, my lord, he looks forward to 
the pleasure of meeting you to-morrow. That is the 
message with which I am charged. Captain Rally- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


194 

wood, his Highness wishes Lieutenant Unziar to 
attend him.’ 

Count Simon made a sign to his men, and a mo- 
ment later Unziar stalked into the room, maddened 
by the outrage put upon him. 

'My sword, Count Sagan,’ he said huskily. 

‘Your sword! Is it lost?’ returned the Count 
with an angry sneer. ‘In my day it was not the 
custom of the guard to lose their swords!’ 

‘When I saw it last it was sticking in your cheek, 
my lord,’ said the young man with a studied inso- 
lence, pointing to a bleeding cut on the Count’s face. 

One of the men, coming forward, laid the sword 
upon the top of the barricade. Unziar grasped it 
and thrust it back into the scabbard. 

‘It was lost by treachery!’ he flung out. ‘And 
I leave it to these gentlemen to say where the shame 
lies !’ 

With that he leaped the barricade and passed into 
the Duke’s room. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS. 

It was late on the following morning before the 
Castle was awake. It almost seemed as if the 
guests had waited for the appearance of the reassur- 
ing daylight before they ventured from their rooms. 
Four huge fires roared in the four great chimneys 
round the vast hall where the breakfast was in pro- 
gress. 

Sagan, in his weather-stained hunting suit and 
leggings, stood at the upper window overlooking the 
courtyard where the huntsmen and gaunt dogs, the 
famous Sagan boar-hounds, were already collected, 
in anticipation of the boar-hunt arranged to take 
place on that day. The sky had cleared, but the tsa 
raged and howled after its perennial custom about 
the Castle. 

Madame de Sagan, entering later, cast a nervous 
glance at the grim red face and bull-neck, and then 
fell into a laughing conversation with the people 
round her, although her heart felt cold. She was 
far from being a brave woman, although she joined 
so gaily in the merry talk passing from side to side ; 
but her marvellous self-control was no more than 
the self-control common to women of her social 
195 


ig6 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

Standing. It is secondary strength, not innate but 
acquired, of which the finest instance is a matter of 
history, and was witnessed within the walls of the 
Conciergerie during the Reign of Terror, where men 
and women unflinchingly carried on a hollow sem- 
blance of the joyous comedy of life till they mounted 
laughing into the tumbrils. 

Although nothing was known about the events of 
the previous night except by those who took part in 
them, a sense of excitement pervaded the party. 
The strained relations existing between the Duke 
and his possible successor gave rise to an amount of 
vague expectation and conjecture. Anything might 
happen with such dangerous elements present in the 
atmosphere. 

Therefore when Rallywood, booted and spurred, 
passed up the hall, his entrance attracted every eye. 
He walked straight up to the Count at his distant 
window and saluting, spoke for perhaps a minute in 
a low voice. 

At the first sentence Sagan swung round, his low- 
ering face growing darker as he listened. Then, 
advancing to the head of the table prepared for the 
entertainment of the Duke, he called the attention 
of all present by striking it loudly with the riding- 
whip he carried. 

An instant hush settled upon the room. Sagan 
glared round with waiting eyes, and in the pause 
the tsa broke in a crash upon the Castle front with 
the pebble- shifting sound of a breaker. 


IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS. 1 97 

‘I have to beg the favour of your attention for a 
moment/ the Count’s words rang out. ‘Captain 
Rallywood reports that an officer of his Highness’s 
Guard is missing — Captain Colendorp. Inquiries 
have been made but he cannot be found. It seems 
that he was last seen leaving the billiard-room. If 
anyone in the hall can give us further information, 
will they be good enough to do so ?’ 

Valerie raised her eyes to Rallywood, who stood 
behind the Count. As he met them the young man’s 
stern face softened suddenly. 

M. Blivinski, who happened to be sitting beside 
her, caught the exchange of looks, and for a moment 
was puzzled. Selpdorf’s daughter? Well, well, 
the English are a wonderful people, he said to him- 
self. Neither subtle nor gifted, but lucky. Lucky 
enough to give the devil odds and beat him ! Here 
was Selpdorf laying his plans deeply and with con- 
summate skill,while this pretty clever daughter of his 
was ready to give him away because a heavy dragoon 
of the favoured race smiled at her across a break- 
fast table. Pah! The ways of Providence are 
inscrutable; it remains for mortal men to do what 
they may to turn them into more convenient chan- 
nels. 

Then there was Counsellor, whose political im- 
portance could not be denied. Yet he did the bluff 
thing bluffly and said the obvious thing obviously, 
and blundered on from one great city to another, but 
blundered triumphantly I Still there were compen- 


198 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

sations. The good God had given the Russian craft 
and a silent tongue, and a facility for telling a lie 
seasonably, 

Elmur was by a fraction of a second too late to 
see what the Russian had seen. Valerie was very 
white, but she was talking indifferently to M. Blivin- 
ski with her eyes fixed upon her plate. It was some 
time before she seemed to grow conscious of Elmur's 
gaze; a slight fleck of colour showed and paled in 
her cheeks, and then at length her long lashes flut- 
tered up and the German perceived in the dark- 
ness of her eyes a trace of unshed tears. 

'Mademoiselle, you are tired,’ he said with solici- 
tude. 

'Yes,’ she answered smiling. 'But we are going 
back to Revonde in a day or two, and then I will 
wipe out the remembrance of everything that has 
happened at Sagan from my mind forever !’ 

Elmur was about to reply when Sagan spoke 
again. 

'No one appears to have heard or seen anything 
of Captain Colendorp. We will have the dogs out. 
Captain Rallywood. Pray tell his Highness that in 
the course of an hour or two we hope to be able to 
tell him where our man has got to. His absence is 
doubtless due to some trifling cause.’ 

As Rallywood retired Sagan cast a comprehensive 
glance around the tables, and noted Counsellor’s ab- 
sence with a sinister satisfaction. 

All the morning he had been speculating upon 


IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS. 1 99 

the course Counsellor would pursue after the ren- 
contre of the previous night. Most likely disappear 
from the Castle. He would not dare to brazen it 
out. Sagan argued that the British envoy could 
not be very sure of his position yet. What had he 
proposed to the Duke? And how had the Duke 
answered him? What was to be the result of the 
visit, or would there be any? Selpdorf held the 
Duke’s confidence. He must checkmate England 
and openly throw his influence into the German 
scale. No half courses could any longer avail in 
Maasau. 

Here his reflections were interrupted, for Coun- 
sellor’s big burly figure was bending over Madame 
de Sagan’s chair, before he accepted the seat at her 
side with the assured manner of a favored guest. 

Even the Russian attache blinked. Ah, these is- 
landers! What next? 

As an immediate result Count Sagan was forced 
to accept the situation thrust upon him. 

‘Have you slept well. Major?’ he inquired sar- 
donically. ‘No bad dreams, eh?’ 

‘I dream seldom — and I make it a point in the 
morning to forget bad dreams if I have had any,’ 
replied Counsellor, with a good-humored raising of 
his big eyebrows. 

‘That is wise,’ said Sagan, ‘for dreams and 
schemes of the night rarely have solid foundations.’ 

‘So they say, my lord, but I do not trouble myself 


200 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

about these things. A man of my age is forced to 
consecrate his best energies to his digestion.' 

The Duke had decided upon returning to Re- 
vonde during the forenoon, but most of the guests 
were to remain for the projected boar-hunt. The 
hunting-party had already started when Blivinski 
and Counsellor drove out of the Castle courtyard on 
their way to the nearest railway station, which lay 
under the moutains some miles away. 

The tsa had blown the snow into heavy drifts, 
leaving the roads and other exposed places bare and 
almost clean-swept. Near the station they passed 
a squadron of the Guard sent by Wallenloup to es- 
cort the Duke back to the capital. 

The pair in the carriage talked little, but when 
the jingling of accoutrements had died away Blivin- 
ski said in an emotionless tone : 

^You met with Count Sagan last night then — in 
your dreams?’ 

‘Yes, or Duke Gustave would have been over 
the border by this morning.’ 

‘Ah!’ 

‘And history goes to prove that reigning sove- 
reigns are fragile ware — they cannot be borrowed 
without danger.’ 

‘You allude to Bulgaria?’ Blivinski asked 
promptly, with an air of genial interest. 

‘Why, for the sake of argument, Alexander can 
stand as a case in point.’ 


IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS. 201 

'If — I say if — we borrowed him, we also returned 
him.’ 

Counsellor’s reply was characteristic, and justified 
his companion’s opinion of his race. 

‘Damaged — so they say.’ 

Blivinski considered the dreary landscape. 

'We must not believe all we hear. In diplomatic 
relations, my friend, ethics cease to exist. Diplo- 
macy is after all a simple game — even elementary — 
a magnificent beggar-my-neighbour which we con- 
tinue to play into eternity.’ 

‘But there are rules .... even in beggar-my- 
neighbour,’ said the Counsellor. 

Blivinski kicked the rug softly from his feet as 
the carriage drew up. 

'One rule, only one,’ he remarked; ‘Britain loves 
to feign the Pharisee. We smile — we others — ^be- 
cause we understand that her rule and ours is after 
all the same — self-interest.’ 

‘If that be the case we come back to the law of 
the Beast,’ said the Counsellor. 

The Russian put his gloved hand upon the open 
door and looked back over his shoulder at Coun- 
sellor. 

‘Always, my dear friend, by very many turnings 
— ^but always.’ 


CHAPTER XX. 


UNDER THE PINES. 

It was a day that would be dark an hour before its 
time. Rallywood rode out under the gate of the 
Castle of Sagan as the last trooper clattered down 
the rocky roadway in the rear of the Duke's carriage, 
for upon the arrival of the squadron from Revonde 
he had received orders to remain behind, the search 
for Colendorp having so far proved unsuccessful. 

Rallywood rode slowly down the shoulder of the 
mountain spur. Under the gray light of the after- 
noon the limitless swamps stretching to the sky-line 
looked cold and naked under their drifted snow. 
From the sky big with storm overhead, to the scanty 
grass that showed by the wayside blackened by the 
rigours of the winter, the whole aspect of the fron- 
tier was ominous and forbidding. Before he plunged 
into the lower ravines Rallywood turned to look 
back at the angry towers of Sagan. He was think- 
ing of Colendorp. Under their shadow that lonely 
and reckless life had come to its close. Why or by 
whose hand might never be made clear, but Rally- 
wood’s mind had worked down to the conviction 
that the Count might be able to tell the story. 

Well, it was good to know that Colendorp had 
202 


UNDER THE PINES. 


203 

not died in vain; indirectly but none the less surely 
his death had brought about the defeat of Sagan’s 
plot. 

Then he rode away into the heart of the winter 
woods, where the branches groaned and thrashed 
under the driving wind. Through gloomy and pine- 
choked gorges he wound his way to the riverside, 
for he had decided that if Colendorp had met his 
death in the river, his body would in time be beached 
near Kofn Ford. 

The sodden dreary paths beside the river, familiar 
as they were to Rallywood, now looked strange to 
him. He seemed to be revisiting them after a long 
absence. Had they worn the same menace in the 
past? How had he endured to ride for those six 
heavy years under the hills and up and down through 
the marshes by the black river, one day like the last, 
without a purpose or an interest beyond the action of 
the hour ? He lifted his head to the gathering storm, 
thanking Heaven that phase of life, or rather that 
long stagnation, could never come again ! 

The horrible emptiness of the place appalled him. 
Only a few block-houses dotted the miles of waste. 
In summer, when the pools yellowed over with flow- 
ering plants, rare wood-pigeons eked out a scanty 
subsistence in the thickets, and there was little else 
the seasons round. Only the patrols, and the trains 
and the smugglers, with a boar or two in the forests 
beside the Kofn, and the ragged wolf-packs that go 
howling by the guard-houses at the first powdering 


204 ^ MODERN MERCENARY. 

of snow. From the past his mind naturally ran on 
to thoughts of Valerie — thoughts that were hope- 
less and happy at the same time. He could never 
win her, yet those few dim moments in the corridor 
were his own, and whatever the future brought to 
her, would she ever quite forget them ? , 

Presently as he rode along he came in sight of 
the block-house by the Ford from which he had gone 
out to Revonde to meet her — gone unknowingly! 
It lay in the dip about a mile ahead. If he were to 
return to-morrow to the narrow quarters he had 
occupied for so many months, the very memory of 
her would glorify the wooden walls, and even the old 
barren monotony of life with the frontier patrol be 
chequered and cheered by the knowledge that some- 
where under the same skies Valerie Selpdorf lived 
and smiled. 

The beggars of love — such as Rallywood — are 
apt to believe that in the mere fact of owning re- 
membrance, they own wealth which can never be ex- 
pended. But the day comes soon when we know 
ourselves poor indeed — when we find the comfort of 
memory wearing thin, when the soul aches for a 
presence beyond reach of the hands, for a voice 
grown too dear to forget, that must for ever escape 
our ears. Eheu I the bitter lesson of vain desire. 

Between Rallywood and the Ford the Kofn 
widened out into a big bay-like reach, upon the 
further shore of which the trees gathered thickly, 
their bare branches overhanging the water. On the 


UNDER THE PINES. 


205 

nearer side ragged-headed pines stood in sparse 
groups, and amongst their lofty upright stems Rally- 
wood presently became aware that a strange scene 
was in progress. 

A small party of people were moving about the 
low-lying ground where the snow still rested. On 
that bleak site at the foot of an outstanding pine two 
or three men with picks and shovels were hurriedly 
digging in the frost-bound earth. Close beside them 
what looked like a long military cloak flung at full 
length lay upon the ground. 

The meaning of the incident was manifest. The 
clouding sky, the river, the broken pine trees were 
looking on at a lonely funeral, darkened by a sug- 
gestive furtiveness and haste. 

Rallywood put spurs to his horse and galloped 
down towards the burial party. Another rider com- 
ing at speed across the open sheered off to intercept 
him. It was easy to recognise Sagan by his bulk 
and the imperious gesture of the hand with which 
he signed to the younger man to stop. But Rally- 
wood rode the harder. There was a shout from 
Sagan, and the men ran towards the black object on 
the snow, and by the time Rallywood reached them 
the dead body was already laid in its grave. 

At the same moment Sagan on the other side of 
the grave pulled up his big horse on its haunches. 
The foresters stood rigid, waiting on the Count’s 
wishes. He looked over their heads at Rallywood. 


206 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


‘Colendorp has been found/ he said with his most 
surly bearing. 

Rally wood glanced down into the shallow grave; 
a lump of frosty earth slipped from the rugged heap 
above and settled into a crevice of the cloak that 
covered Colendorp. 

‘My men are burying him.^ 

‘By your orders, my lord ?’ 

‘By my orders. Can you suggest a better use to 
make of a dead man ?’ 

‘No, my lord, but a better manner of burial.^ 

‘Dismount and see for yourself.’ 

Rallywood swung off the saddle, and giving his 
horse to one of the foresters stooped and threw back 
the covering from, the dead man’s face and breast. 
His dead fierce eyes stared upward, his wet hair was 
already frozen to his brow, and a black wound gaped 
open at his throat. Rallywood gazed at the harsh 
features, which, but for their livid colour, were little 
altered by death. The tsa moaned across the river 
and a few large flakes of snow came floating down. 

‘Are you satisfied now ?’ 

Rallywood stood up and faced the Count. 

‘How did he die?’ 

‘You can see that. Suicide as plain as a knife can 
write it.’ 

‘I do not think so,’ said Rallywood slowly. 

The Count’s horse plunged under the punishing 
spurs. 

‘Captain Rallywood, may I ask what you hope 


UNDER THE PINES. ^07 

to gain by making a scandal in the Guard?’ he 
asked. 

‘Justice, perhaps. Colendorp had no reason to 
take his life, my lord.’ 

‘You will not find many to agree with you. The 
man was always ill-conditioned. He had debts and 
the pride of the devil. His affairs came to an im- 
possible pass, I conclude. In any case a man has a 
right to his own secrets.’ 

‘Yes, his affairs came to an impossible pass, per- 
haps. For the rest, this seems to me less like Colen- 
dorp’s secret than the secret of some other man.’ 
Rallywood met the red eye full of smouldering 
wrath. ‘Pardon me, my lord, but in the name of 
the Guard, I protest against burial of Captain Colen- 
dorp in this place.’ 

‘I have given my orders,’ answered Sagan. ‘The 
Guard must consider their reputation. We have 
had too many scandals already, and no one will thank 
you for dragging a fresh one into Revonde for public 
discussion.’ 

Sagan was amazed at his own moderation in 
arguing the question at all. He looked to see it have 
its due effect upon the Englishman. But Rallywood 
stood unmoved and stubborn beside the grave. 

‘We have murder here!’ The words fell like an 
accusation. 

Rallywood’s eyes were alight now. It took little 
penetration to picture how Colendorp had met his 
death. Round the grave, Sagan’s horse with its 


2o8 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


heavy smoking quarters trampled and fretted under 
the remorseless hand upon the curb. The Count 
could bear no more opposition. His fury overcame 
him. Roaring an oath he slashed at Rallywood with 
his riding whip. 

‘By St. Anthony, sir, you forget there is room in 
that grave for two,’ he shouted. ‘You try me too 
far — your infernal officiousness — go! It is useless 
to oppose my wishes here.’ Which was obvious. 
The foresters, lithe and strong as panthers, waited 
only the orders of their master. They needed but a 
word, and would as lief have buried two dead men 
as one in the grave under the torn pines. You may 
find the same type in the mountains of Austria, where 
a poaching affray means a vendetta, and the game 
laws are framed on corresponding principles. 

‘I see I can do nothing now,’ said Rallywood, re- 
mounting in his leisurely way. ‘The Guard must 
deal with the affair.’ 

But Sagan had another word to say to him. 

‘And I also. Captain Rallywood, shall know how 
to deal with you. Do not forget that! Your con- 
duct cannot be overlooked. You will find that in 
Maasau we are still able to get rid of those who cater 
for a cheap notoriety. We shall know how to deal 
with you ! I am the colonel of the Guard. Are you 
aware that it is in my power to break you? Aye, 
like that!’ he smashed his riding-whip across his 
knee as he spoke, and flinging away the pieces, he 
added, ‘And by the powers above us, I will !’ 


UNDER THE PINES. 


209 

Rallywood saluted and rode away. At once the 
foresters fell to work feverishly to fill in the earth 
over Colendorp's body. 

Once more through the falling snow Rallywood 
looked back. Sagan’s great horse stood across the 
low mound of the finished grave. 


CHAPTER XXL 


love's beggar. 

A THREAT from Count Simon of Sagan was not to 
be lightly regarded at any time, but within the 
boundaries of his own estates it appreciably dis- 
counted the chances of life. Therefore Rallywood, 
instead of returning to the Castle, headed for the 
blockhouse by the Ford. The incident which had 
just taken place probably meant the closing of his 
career in the army of Maasau. Personal power sur- 
vived in its full plenitude in the little state, which 
had never made any pretence of setting up a repre- 
sentative government; the Maasaun people were as 
mute as they had been in the dark ages and appeared 
content to remain so. 

The future which lay before Rallywood on that 
winter evening was not enlivening. Less than three 
months ago he would have been half amused at such 
a conclusion to his military life as offering an answer 
to a perplexed question. But since then much had 
happened. That ill-luck should overtake him when 
hope was at its keenest, and when his relations both 
with the Guard and the Duke had reached a promis- 
ing point, struck him hard. If he left the Guard he 
must also leave Maasau. He had told himself a 


210 


love's beggar. 


21 I 


hundred times that the daughter of the Chancellor 
was far beyond his winning, yet the certainty of los- 
ing her, which this last development of events in- 
volved, was the worst blow of all. To stare an 
empty future in the face is like looking into expres- 
sionless eyes where no soul can ever come. 

He little guessed how close upon him were the 
critical moments of life, or how much of emotion 
and difficulty and strenuous decision were to be 
crowded into the next few days. A whirlpool of 
events was drawing him to its raging centre. The 
death and the burial of Colendorp, Sagan’s resent- 
ment and his ruthless scheming were all eddies of cir- 
cumstance circling inward and carrying him with 
them to a definite issue. 

As he rode on the weather grew rapidly worse, 
and it soon became impossible to see more than a 
few yards ahead. The night was settling down 
thick with falling snow, so that Rallywood could 
only pull up and listen when a faint noise, that might 
have been a woman’s scream, came to him through 
the storm. He shouted in return but there was no 
answer. Then out of the gray curtain a sleigh with 
two maddened horses dashed across his path and 
was as suddenly lost to sight. Rallywood had only 
time to see a woman clinging to the driver’s empty 
seat and clutching desperately at the dangling reins. 

They passed like a vision, noiseless, swift, and 
dim, and although Rallywood followed quickly, he 
could not find them. The gloom and the snow had 


212 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


obliterated all trace of the sleigh, and at last Rally- 
wood himself, well as he knew the country, became 
bewildered; but luckily the horse he rode was a 
charger he had had with him on the Frontier. He 
left it to choose its own direction, yet it was long 
before a blur of light which he knew to be the open 
doorway of the block-house grew out on the shifting 
darkness. 

Within, the men of the patrol were standing in 
a group talking eagerly. Flinging himself from his 
horse. Rally wood entered the house just as a young 
cavalry officer came out from the inner room, and, 
recognising Rallywood, advanced hurriedly to meet 
him. 

‘I say, who do you think we have in there?’ he 
said excitely. 

‘Tell me afterwards,’ interrupted Rallywood; ‘I 
met a runaway sleigh ’ 

‘They were the horses from the Castle,’ interrupted 
the young man with a nervous laugh. ‘Mademoiselle 
Selpdorf managed to get hold of the reins after a 
bit, otherwise ’ he snapped his fingers signifi- 

cantly. 

‘Then she — the lady is safe?’ 

‘Two of them, my dear friend! One is the hand- 
somest girl in Maasau, and the other is Madame de 
Sagan herself! And, by Jove! she’s an infernally 
pretty woman too. We’re in luck, Rallywood! 
Have you come to look for them ?’ 

Rallywood hesitated before he replied. 


love's beggar. 


213 

‘No, thanks. I must get back to Revonde by the 
first train, so I will ride on with the next patrol to the 
station. Are they hurt?’ he nodded towards the 
inner room. 

‘No, but how they escaped the deuce only knows! 
Madame de Sagan was insensible when we found 
them.’ He dropped his voice. ‘By the way, she 
has been saying some queer things! She declares 
the driver lashed up the horses and purposely threw 
himself off the sleigh when they were on the slope 
of the pine wood just above the Ingern precipice. 
She swears he meant to kill them 1’ 

‘She was frightened. That’s all.’ 

‘It was about a certainty they’d be dashed to 

pieces. And look here ’ the young fellow looked 

oddly at Rallywood, ‘she hinted that the Count ’ 

‘Nonsense I’ Rallywood forced a laugh. ‘She was 
badly frightened, I tell you.’ 

‘I’ll take my oath there’s something in it though I 
She refuses to let us take her back to the Castle to- 
night.’ 

‘What have you given them — tea or anything ?’ 

‘Faith, no 1 I made them each take a nip of hizutte 
— far better, too. But we’ll have some tea made 
now if you think they would like it.’ 

‘Of course. It will give them something to do. 
By the way, you might as well ask them if they 
would see me.’ 

On second thought and in view of the Countess’s 


214 ^ MODERN MERCENARY. 

refusal to go back to Sagan, he felt he must oflfer his 
assistance. 

‘Yes, ask them if they will see me now,’ he con- 
tinued, looking at his watch ; ‘I have not much time 
to spare.’ 

The next moment Isolde’s high sweet voice could 
be heard distinctly through the open door. 

‘Captain Rallywood! Pray tell him we should 
like to see him.’ 

Madame de Sagan was lying on a narrow camp 
bed supported by wraps and pillows, a brilliant red 
spot on each cheek, and her eyes darker than ordi- 
nary under the influence of the alternate fright and 
stimulation of the last two hours. She waited till 
the door was shut, then she put out both hands to 
Rallywood. 

‘Thank Heaven, we are safe and together again. 
Jack! Come here! I want to know that you are 
alive and this is not all a dream,’ she began im- 
pulsively, yet behind the impulse lay a calculated 
design. She owed her life to Valerie’s courage, but 
that weighed as nothing in comparison with the 
knowledge that in some indefinite manner the girl 
stood between Rallywood and herself, that Rally- 
wood for some reason held Valerie in special regard. 

Rallywood bowed, still standing by the door. 

‘Thank Heaven you are safe, Madame,’ he said. 
‘I saw you somewhere this side of the pine woods, 
but lost you in the mist.’ 

‘Oh, I did not see you ! I saw nothing after that 


LOVERS BEGGAR. 


215 

murderer leaped off. I had a horrible instant during 
which I imagined myself swinging between the 
gorge and the sky — after that I knew no more!’ ex- 
claimed Isolde, a sort of complacency mixing with 
her agitation. ‘They tell me that Valerie was very 
brave and that she saved our lives, but for me these 
heroisms are impossible!’ 

She glanced at Rallywood, secure in his approval, 
but he had turned to Valerie, who was sitting in a 
low wooden chair by the stove with her back to the 
room. 

‘It was magnificent. Mademoiselle!’ he ex- 
claimed. 

Valerie shivered. 

‘There was nothing at all magnificent about it,’ 
she said coldly. ‘Self-preservation drives one to do 
what one can ; it is only by chance that one happens 
to do the right thing.’ 

Isolde shrugged her shoulders and made a little 
grimace at Rallywood. 

‘Do not heed her. Jack. People are always very 
pleased with themselves for doing what other people 
call magnificent. Valerie is cross. Take this chair 
by me ; I have a very serious quarrel with you.’ 

All the terror and peril of that dreadful drive had 
passed from Madame de Sagan’s facile mind. The 
little rivalries and coquetries of everyday life occu- 
pied her as fully as if her lot contained no troublous 
outlook. In this conjunction vanity will often do 
for a woman what work does for a man. As for 


2I6 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


Isolde, the small promptings of a wounded vanity at 
once absorbed her. 

Very unwillingly Rally wood obeyed. Between 
those narrow walls one was within hand-reach of 
everything in the room, so that although he was be- 
side the Countess he was not a yard from Made- 
moiselle Selpdorf. 

‘So you would not come to me last night?’ began 
Isolde abruptly. ‘You cannot be made to under- 
stand that we Maasauns hold human life of very 
little account. It is stupid of you, Jack, but you will 
be forced to believe it now. Do you know that the 
driver of the sleigh ’ 

The attempt at assassination was horrible enough 
in itself, but from her lips wearing their strange 
innocent smile he felt he could not endure the story. 

‘I have heard of it,’ he interposed hastily; ‘the 
Lieutenant told me. But ’ 

Isolde leant upon her elbow to look into his 
face. 

‘What! You don’t believe even now that Simon 
is trying to rid himself of me? Valerie, speak! 
You too refused to believe me last night. What do 
you say now ?’ 

‘It may have been an accident,’ replied Valerie 
with a tired movement. 

‘Absurd! But whatever you choose to say, I 
will not go back to the Castle ! Revonde is perhaps 
safe ’ 


lover's beggar. 2 I 7 

^My father is there, and you will be safe,' said 
Valerie in a tone of quiet certainty. 

Isolde laughed scornfully. ‘I don’t know that; for 
after all Sagan is the most powerful man in the 
state !’ she cried, with that perverse pride in her hus- 
band that his daring personality seemed to develop 
in all his dependents. 

As Valerie made no reply, she harked back to her 
former subject. was in danger last night. Jack, 
yet you would not come to my help. What excuse 
can a man offer for such a thing ?’ her voice and lips 
had grown tender in addressing him. 

'The Duke, Madame.’ 

‘That for the old Duke !’ with a charming gesture 
of emptying both her little hands. ‘What is he in 
comparison with me? Jack, you are but a poor 
lover after all !’ 

Rallywood began to see that some motive under- 
lay Isolde’s wild talk. The kind eyes with which 
he had been watching her changed. 

‘It is very true,’ he said. 

‘Jack, Jack, how am I to forgive you?’ she swept 
on. ‘Yet you remember when I was a firefly at the 
palace ball, I told you that like a firefly my life 
would be short and merry. My prophecy is coming 
true.’ 

An almost imperceptible alteration in the pose of 
the quiet figure by the open stove was not lost upon 
Madame de Sagan. 

The sweet treble voice resumed : 


2i8 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


‘You took a firefly from my fan and told me that 
one always wanted the beautiful things to live for 
ever. Jack, you promised to be my friend that 
night. You have not forgotten?’ 

‘I have not forgotten.’ 

‘And the firefly? Have you kept that as care- 
lessly as you have kept your promise? Where is 
your cigarette-case? Ah!’ a pause, then a cry of 
pleasure. ‘Valerie, come here! He dropped it into 
his cigarette-case and it is here still! If you had 
only reminded him of that ’ 

Valerie stood up cold and proud, and exceedingly 
pale. 

‘I forgot.’ 

‘It does not matter now,’ Isolde replied, taking 
the glittering atom from its hiding-place and holding 
it up on her slender Anger to catch the light, ‘since we 
have met after all. You meant to fail, Valerie! 
Were you not ashamed to deceive me last night — 
even last night when you saw I was desperate, and 
oh, so horribly afraid ?’ 

Rallywood, absorbed in other thoughts, gathered 
very little of what was being said. After avoiding 
Isolde of Sagan with more or less success on the 
Frontier, he had, since his stay in Revonde, yielded 
in an odd reserved way to her infatuation for him, 
partly out of a desire to secure meetings with 
Mademoiselle Selpdorf, partly from a man’s stupid 
helplessness under such circumstances. The more 
chivalrous the man the more helpless very often. 


LOVERS BEGGAR. 


219 

But all this was entirely and for ever unexplainable 
to Mademoiselle Selpdorf. He drew a deep breath. 
There was nothing for it but to accept the situation. 

‘We both owe a debt to Mademoiselle Selpdorf for 
carrying the message/ he said. 

‘You are mistaken/ said Valerie, and he winced 
under the contempt of her voice. ‘I should never 
have stooped to carry it had I not had a far different 
object in view.^ 

Isolde laughed to a shrill echo. Valerie Selp- 
dorf’s haughty spirit was about to be humbled. She 
dimly felt why Rallywood held the girl to be far 
above the level of ordinary womanhood — a cold and 
unattainable star. But she should be dragged down 
from the heights before his eyes. 

‘I was not so blind as you supposed,’ Isolde said 
aloud, pointing an accusing finger at Valerie. ‘I 
knew why you went. Shall I tell you. Jack?’ 

Rallywood looked up quickly. Colendorp natur- 
ally recurred to his mind. 

‘You could not have known,’ Valerie answered. 

‘But I did, though !’ Isolde went on. ‘Listen to 
me. Jack. Do you know why she undertook my 
message, and why she forgot its most important 
point? My life has come to-night to a crisis; I 
will not spare those who have been cruel to me!’ 
Isolde was trembling with excitement as she leant 
forward, one hand holding by the table that stood be- 
tween her and Valerie, the other clenched in the soft 
fur of the rug on her knees. ‘Why? Oh, men are 


220 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


SO simple! They believe a woman to be pure and 
true if she but knows how to temper her coquetries 
with a pretence of reserve. Jack, Valerie has been 
false to me and to you because she is jealous of me, 
and — because she herself loves you !’ 

Rallywood rose slowly. ‘Hush, Madame I’ 

Valerie stood for one instant scarlet from neck 
to brow, then the blood ebbed and left her of a curi- 
ous deadly pallor like one who has a mortal wound, 
but she still faced them. 

‘Wait, Jack. You shall hear the end now that 
we have gone so far.’ Isolde laughed again. She 
was so sure of her lover. ‘It is well for the truth 
to come out sometimes, you know. Yes, Valerie 
Selpdorf, the proud, unapproachable Valerie, loves a 
captain of the Guard, who ’ 

Rallywood strode across in front of her. After 
such words of outrage, his very nearness to Made- 
moiselle Selpdorf seemed in itself an insult. With 
his back to the door he stopped and took up the 
last unfinished sentence. 

‘You have made a strange mistake, Madame,’ he 
said in a low voice but very clearly. ‘On the con- 
trary, it is the captain of the Guard who has loved 
Mademoiselle Selpdorf, and even dared to tell her so, 
although she had shown him that she regarded him 
with scorn and dislike. I hope I may be forgiven 
for acknowledging this now. Mademoiselle. And 
let me say one thing more, that though I have no 
hope, though I am one of Love’s beggars, the great- 


LOVERS BEGGAR. 221 

est honour of my life will be that I have loved such a 
woman !’ 

The door closed behind him. Isolde sat stupified 
at the result of her stratagem, the stratagem by 
which she had intended to humble Valerie in the 
most cruel way a woman can be humbled. 

Valerie, sinking down into her chair, burst into 
an uncontrollable flood of tears. The secret of her 
heart, which she had denied to herself, sprang up at 
Isolde’s words and confronted her, filling her world’s 
horizon. 

‘Well,’ said Isolde after a long pause, ‘ “We love 
but while we may.” I wish you joy of his con- 
stancy. He loved me yesterday.’ 

Valerie raised her head with the old haughty 
gesture. 

‘As for him, Isolde, you compelled him to say 
it! But he does not — love me!’ Her voice gath- 
ered strength. ‘As for me, you shall know the whole 
truth; you are right — I love him, for he is a most 
noble gentleman !’ 


CHAPTER XXII. 


IN LOVE WITH HONOUR. 

Revonde was drenched in a sudden and depressing 
thaw. From her crowned ridges down to the 
swollen river rushing at her feet, she stood shivering 
in a robe of clinging mist; yet the day was warm 
with the raw deceptive closeness that chills to the 
bone and awakens the latent germs of death. 

From the Hotel du Chancelier the winter view 
over the bright, beautiful city, glittering only yester- 
day in its winter bedizenment of frost and snow, was 
changed. Streams of dirty water poured from the 
roofs, and in the streets the miry snow sluiced slowly 
downhill or stuck on passing boot-heels in treacher- 
ous pads. 

A thaw is demoralising; its penetrative power 
strikes deeper than physical malaise. With the aver- 
age man or woman it damps the spirits, unstrings the 
will, and slackens the mental and moral fibre until re- 
sistance of any kind becomes an effort. M. Selpdorf 
was in the habit of saying that the rope by which 
the world swings is made up of the strands of the 
days rather than of the fathoms of the years. He 
held that no detail was too insignificant to be used 
as a factor in the conduct of affairs ; thus he habitu- 
222 


iN LOVE WITH HONOUR. 223 

ally took everyday trifles into account, since small 
items are apt to add up handsomely in the final figure 
of any calculation. A man who says ^No’ to-day 
may be won to consent to-morrow under altered con- 
ditions of weather and diet. Therefore the Chan- 
cellor, who had avoided his daughter since her re- 
turn, made choice of a dismal morning to bring his 
influence to bear upon her. He relied a good deal 
upon Valerie’s affection for himself, which was 
strong and single-hearted. Moreover, he had 
trained her to the masculine habit of taking a broad 
view, a bird’s-eye view, of the whole of a given sub- 
ject, instead of turning the microscope of her emo- 
tions on any one point, after the manner of women. 

Baron von Elmur was no longer young, but he 
was a personage and a figure in the political world. 
By marrying him Valerie would place herself in a 
position where her cleverness, her tact, and her 
beauty would be offered a wide and splendid field of 
activity. Besides, so Selpdorf imagined, she had no 
more favoured suitor. 

Valerie was sweet and proud and sensitive; her 
father gave her credit for the two first qualities, but 
it probably would not have struck him to use that 
last term in describing her. He forgot that, in spite 
of any amount of masculine training, a woman re- 
mains always a woman at heart. Had Valerie not 
met Rally wood, she might never have known as 
much about herself as she discovered during her 
visit to Sagan ; as matters stood, however, the weak 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


224 

point in M. Selpdorf’s theory was already under 
strain. The Chancellor usually breakfasted alone 
with his daughter. She was at once spirited and 
adaptable — adaptable enough to fall in with a man's 
moods, and spirited enough to hold independent 
opinions, an ideal combination in a comrade. Ser- 
vants were rigorously excluded from the room dur- 
ing the meal, that father and daughter might talk 
freely together. 

T have hardly seen you since you came back, 
Valerie. I have missed you,' Selpdorf said as he 
turned away from the table and lit a cigarette. T am 
hurried to-day, yet I must speak to you on a subject 
that cannot be put off. One incident of your stay 
at the Castle has been constantly in my mind.' 

'Yes, father.' 

The unconcern of her voice struck Selpdorf. 
Things were either about to go unexpectedly well or 
else very badly. 

‘Baron von Elmur tells me you yielded to my 
advice and his wishes. In fact, you consented to an 
engagement.' 

‘Oh, yes, for the time being.' 

‘My dear girl,' he returned gravely, ‘it has been 
publicly announced. It was announced the same 
evening, I understand.' 

Valerie looked at him with a vague alarm in her 
eyes. 

‘Only by an unlucky accident,' she replied. ‘It 


IN LOVE WITH HONOUR. 225 

was never intended to be announced. Baron von 
Elmur assured me of that.' 

‘I am sure von Elmur’ s intentions were most gen- 
erous, but the fact remains that it was made public. 
Valerie, you must be aware of his feelings towards 
you?’ 

Valerie came round the table and sat down beside 
her father, slipping her hand caressingly through his 
arm. 

Selpdorf smiled down at her. 

‘Valerie, I must ask you to consider not only your 
own share in this question, but von Elmur’s. It 
compromises Elmur no less than it compromises 
you.’ 

‘I cannot carry out the engagement,’ said the girl 
quietly. 

M. Selpdorf threw a great deal of surprise and 
disappointment into his countenance. 

‘I did not know you were so greatly prejudiced 
against him. But, Valerie, we are honourable peo- 
ple, you and I, and we cannot allow Baron von 
Elmur to suffer because we unluckily misunderstood 
one another.’ 

Valerie grew very still, her fingers pressed upon 
her father’s arm. 

‘Nothing succeeds like success, and up to the 
present time von Elmur has succeeded,’ he went on. 
‘But a failure in a love affair places a man in an 
absurd position, and to be laughed at means loss of 
prestige. Wherever he is known the story will fol- 


A MODERN mercenary. 


226 

low him. He has a brilliant future before him, a 
future that it might be the pride of any woman to 
share. I think, therefore, you will hesitate before 
you injure him by giving way to a girlish and per- 
haps passing dislike.’ 

'Father, I cannot!’ 

Valerie’s voice was always low pitched and had 
the mellow sweetness peculiar to a contralto. But 
Selpdorf recognised a note in it now which showed 
him that his wishes were very far from fulfilment. 
She was loyal and steadfast, qualities that up to the 
present the Chancellor had found very admirable in 
his daughter. It is a rare pleasure for men of his 
type to be able to trust their womankind. In the 
case of his motherless girl, the Chancellor had en- 
joyed this pleasure to the full. To-day for the first 
time he found himself face to face with the less con- 
venient side of the girl’s character. She was an 
eminently reasonable person, and though she could 
stick to her point she never did so without cause. 
Therefore Elmur’s affair promised to be awkward. 

'What are your reasons ?’ he asked, after a pause. 

'I do not — like Baron von Elmur.’ 

'That is unfortunate, but your dislike may be over- 
come when you know him better.’ 

'Oh, no ! — never I’ 

'Why not?’ 

'Is it possible to explain a dislike?’ asked Valerie 
rather petulantly. 

'No, perhaps not — for a woman,’ said Selpdorf 


IN LOVE WITH HONOUk. 22^ 

reflectively, ‘but since there is no other ’ he 

waited, then putting his forefinger under his chin, 
he raised her face and looked into it. ‘Unless indeed 
you prefer someone ’ 

Her eyes, which met his with the clear direct 
glance they had not inherited from himself, and her 
pale gravity dismayed him. 

‘Speak, my dear child. This is a matter very 
near my heart,’ he said quietly. 

A tremulous smile came to Valerie’s lips. 

‘And near mine — or I should not oppose you, 
father.’ ^ 

Selpdorf pushed her away from him with a gentle 
hand. 

‘You don’t know what you are doing,’ he said 
shortly, and gazed out with undisguised chagrin into 
the mists that overhung Revonde. Presently he 
stood up. 

‘Well, well ; it only goes to prove that the human 
element is a variable quantity,’ he remarked. 

‘Am I only a human element in your plans ? Am 
I no more than that to you?’ She put her hands 
upon his shoulder. 

M. Selpdorf drew her nearer and kissed her fore- 
head. 

‘You know what you are to me, Valerie. I had 

hoped to join our interests in all things, but ’ he 

turned to the door. 

‘Father!’ the girl cried, ‘don’t leave me like this. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


228 

You don’t understand. I only knew by chance. 
He is too noble to ’ 

'Ah !’ Selpdorf recollected Elmur’s phrase, There 
is always the picturesque captain of the Guard.’ He 
paused before speaking. ‘Then this noble individual 
does not propose to take my daughter from me alto- 
gether — only to entangle her in a sentimental em- 
barrassment ?’ 

‘He made no claim upon me. He was compelled 
to — to speak — for my sake!’ 

‘I will not ask for further confidences to-day, 
Valerie. But think over the whole of our conversa- 
tion. I can trust you to be just, even to Baron von 
Elmur.’ 

M. Selpdorf knew that the longer an idea is 
brooded over, the harder it becomes to part company 
with it. Therefore the forenoon was yet young 
when von Elmur drove up to the Hotel du Chancelier 
in reply to a summons. The German plot was not 
yet at an end. By judicious manipulation, Selpdorf 
had gleaned a dim knowledge of Counsellor’s errand 
from the Duke, who was as wax in his supple hands. 
Counsellor’s return had already become one day 
overdue, and Selpdorf took advantage of the delay 
to infuse doubts and troubled surmises into the 
Duke’s wavering mind. 

He had recovered in some measure the royal con- 
fidence, and felt almost certain that if the English 
proposals could be sufficiently delayed as to seem to 
hang fire, he might still be able to persuade his mas- 


IN LOVE WITH HONOUR. 229 

ter to enter into some provisional arrangement with 
Germany. 

‘You have not any definite news for me, after 
all,^ Elmur remarked at the end of ten minutes. 
‘I begin to believe the Count’s declaration that his 
Highness can only be driven into a reasonable treaty 

with us by ’ he stopped and sketched rapidly on 

the paper before him, ‘by — in fact — the flat of the 
sword, shall we say ?’ 

Selpdorf turned a look on his companion. 

‘Could you trust Count Simon to put any man, 
and most of all the one upon whose property he has 
a reversionary claim, in fear of death ? And further 
trust him not to put the threat into execution if pro- 
voked by failure ?’ 

Elmur shrugged his shoulders. 

‘We should have Duke Simon to deal with in that 
case, instead of Duke Gustave.’ 

M. Selpdorf’s round forehead wrinkled slightly. 
He was apprehensive of this new temper in Elmur. 
The Chancellor was too clever to be quite honest, 
and too honest to be quite unflinching. A man, in 
fact, a little weaker and a little stronger than his 
fellows. ‘Then the Count’s methods still commend 
themselves to you, the miscarriage of the plan of 
Sagan notwithstanding ?’ he asked with an invidious 
smile. 

‘If his Highness can be brought into a complacent 
frame of mind as regards our project to-day, and 
before the English proposals are laid before him, I 


230 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

think we shall not need the methods of the Count,’ 
Elmur answered. 'Count Simon has undertaken to 
help us on the Frontier. Major Counsellor will be 
detained under some pretext at Kofn Ford block- 
house, and later you. Monsieur, who have so con- 
summate a skill in covering the mistakes of other 
people, will set this mistake right by a graceful 
apology. The fat Major will arrive in Revonde be- 
hind time — that is all. In the meanwhile, his des- 
patches will be forwarded to you if you will select a 
safe person to meet the Count’s messenger beyond 
the river. Later you can return them to Major 
Counsellor and score a point by the act.’ 

Selpdorf made no comment, but changed the sub- 
ject. T have had a little talk with my daughter.’ 

Elmur laid down his pen and his impassive air be- 
came more marked than ever. 

‘Am I then to have the pleasure of an interview 
with Mademoiselle to-day?’ he inquired. ‘I hope 
she exonerates me from any blame in connection 
with the announcement made at Sagan ?’ 

‘Entirely. But she is inclined to insist that her 
consent was conditional — no more.’ 

‘I only desire the opportunity of assuring her of 
my entire devotion,’ said Elmur. 

‘I do not fancy that she wrongs you, my dear 
Baron, by doubting that.’ 

‘There is then a difficulty on the part of Made- 
moiselle? It is unfortunate.’ 

‘It can be overcome. She is still very young, and 


IN LOVE WITH HONOUR, 23 I 

her imagination has been touched. The English- 
man, Captain Rallywood, has, as you once remarked 
the knack of making himself picturesque, which ap- 
peals in fact to the imagination. I am myself sensi- 
ble of something of the kind when dealing with 
him. Valerie imagines him to be quixotic.’ 

‘Has Mademoiselle said this ?’ Elmur was stiffen- 
ing at every sentence. Circumstances and not liking 
had put these two men on the same side, and Selp- 
dorf repaid Elmur’s sneers at the helplessness of 
Maasau with sympathy for Elmur’s position as a 
lover. No man likes to be pitied in his love affairs. 

‘No, no, my good friend, no name was mentioned. 
It may be more conv"&iient that I should never 
know it.’ 

‘Then you think she may be persuaded to alter her 
decision with regard to me ?’ 

‘I am certain of it.’ 

‘And what do you suggest shall be done with my 
— rival?’ asked the German with a sinister inflec- 
tion of the voice. 

‘We must break him.’ 

■ ‘Will it not be possible to work in this small af- 
fair with Counsellor’s detention? Send Captain 
Rallywood to Kofn Ford to undertake the custody 
of Major Counsellor. Of course, it will not be nec- 
essary for you to mention the name of the person 
about whom your stupid Frontier officials are to 
make so convenient a mistake. When Rallywood 
discovers the identity of his prisoner, I fancy his 


232 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

honour will find the weight of temptation put upon 
it too great. He also is in the English plot, remem- 
ber, and he will co-operate with his countryman. 
He will allow Counsellor to escape. But by that 
time the Duke must have closed with another ally.' 

Selpdorf comprehended that the German was play- 
ing his own game in a double sense. He was, in 
fact, serving his own private interests and also hus- 
tling Selpdorf along towards the German goal. 

Then we shall have a court-martial,' said the 
Chancellor. ‘Disgrace will be more effectual than 
death itself in this case.' 

‘Disgrace? ah, yes! But I know what would 
happen to Captain Rally wood in my country.' 
Elmur's eyes had a gleam in them. 

‘I am not so well informed. Our State is more 
elastic in its laws than yours. I cannot foresee what 
will happen to him in mine!' replied Selpdorf smil- 
ing. 

‘There is but one thing that could happen to him 
under military law in any country. He will be 
shot !' said Elmur pleasantly, then added with a sud- 
den uncontrolled irritation, ‘And that too is pic- 
turesque.' 

The Chancellor spread out his hands. 

‘What will you, my dear Baron? It is also con- 
clusive. Besides, we shall have gained our point. 
The fellow's breach of faith is our point. Valerie 
will be disillusioned; for recollect, I pray you, that 
Valerie is in love with honour.' 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


HOW RALLYWOOD HAD HIS ORDERS. 

Unziar had already departed to the Frontier on a 
secret errand when Rallywood started for the Chan- 
cellerie through the slush and fog. It was yet early 
in the afternoon, and an hour when the Duke some- 
times drove out. As Rallywood trotted along the 
embankment by the river, he saw the outriders of the 
Duke’s carriage coming towards him. 

Gustave of Maasau happened to be alone, and, to 
indulge the humour of the moment, he beckoned the 
young man to the side of the carriage and spoke a 
few words to him. He took a pleasure in the Eng- 
lishman’s frank readiness. 

T have to thank you for your energy in the matter 
of Colendorp,’ he began. 'We have, however, de- 
cided to leave the whole affair in abeyance for the 
present. So M. Selpdorf has sent for you. What 
for ?’ he added with the curiosity of an idle man. 

T do not know, sire.’ 

'Now I remember, he did mention something 
about — well, well, we have worse enemies in the 
State than the Chancellor,’ he wandered on, for he 
had had an interview during the morning with Selp- 
dorf, and was mor^ than half persuaded to place 
233 


234 ^ MODERN MERCENARY. 

himself once more unreservedly under that able 
direction. For Selpdorf had almost succeeded in 
lulling his suspicions, and in luring him back to the 
old comfortable habit of believing in a false peace. 
He half regretted the doubts he had lately enter- 
tained of his Prime Minister, and was weakly willing 
to disabuse the Englishman’s mind of prejudice. He 
did not know that Rallywood was quite unaware of 
Selpdorf’ s connection with the Sagan plot. ‘The 
excellent Selpdorf is unsparing of his agents,’ went 
on the Duke in vague connection, ‘but he is also un- 
sparing of himself. Therefore see that you obey 
him loyally. For me, he does what he wills with 
me.’ He laughed and raised his hand by way of 
dismissal. 

Rallywood went on wondering what the Duke 
meant to convey by this praise of his great Minister 
and in fact set many constructions on the empty 
words. 

Selpdorf received him with an air of gravity, 
almost of restraint, entirely unlike the debonnair in- 
terest he had shown in him on the occasion of their 
last interview. 

‘I have sent for you. Captain Rallywood,’ he said 
after a moment’s consideration, ‘to entrust to you a 
very delicate mission.’ 

He ceased and waited for some response. He 
was standing opposite to Rallywood on a white fur 
rug. The upstanding corners of his moustache, his 
upright carriage, and the ineffaceable mark left upon 


HOW RALLYWOOD HAD HIS ORDERS. 235 

him by his short term of military service — for con- 
scription obtains in Maasau — had their effect upon 
Rallywood. He picked out the soldier from the 
chancellor and saluted in silence. 

Selpdorf smiled. Yet he wished the man had 
spoken! so much may be deduced from a tone of 
voice. Did he guess how much Selpdorf knew of 
his relations with Valerie? But there was nothing 
to be gathered from that rigid front. 

‘Before I give you any information, I must ask 
you first to say whether you will serve his Highness 
or not ?’ 

‘I have taken the oath, your excellency.’ 

‘Yes,’ the Chancellor said dubiously, ‘and an oath 
goes a long way but sometimes not all the way. 
Has not some writer said that it is the man that 
makes the oath believed, not the oath the man ?’ 

‘I have taken the soldier’s oath,’ repeated Rally- 
wood. 

But he had no protestation of fidelity to offer. It 
rested with Selpdorf to choose the right man for 
his mission. 

If personal inclination had had any part in the 
Chancellor’s plan of life, it is certain he would have 
liked Rallywood. As it was, in trusting he dis- 
trusted him. Rallywood could be relied on to follow 
a straight path, he knew, but if it swerved from 
honour — what then? 

‘Also I must remind you that a soldier should see 
no farther than the point of his sword, and hear no 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


236 

more than his orders. In short, under many circum- 
stances he has no use for an independent judgment. 
He must leave that to those whom he is pledged to 
obey and with whom rests the ultimate respon- 
sibility. A soldier’s single duty is blind obedience.’ 

Rallywood bowed and continued to await his 
orders in silence. 

‘That is well. I am about to send you to Kofn 
Ford, where you will meet the midnight mail from 
the Frontier. At the foot of the mountain incline, 
about half-way between the stations, the train will 
be stopped and a person placed in your custody. You 
will take this person back with you to the Ford 
block-house and keep him there until you receive 
orders to bring him into Revonde. I especially 
charge you that no violence is to be used, but he is 
not to be permitted to escape. The importance of 
the duty which is entrusted to you cannot be too 
highly estimated.’ 

This then was what the Duke meant. Rallywood 
was to place himself unreservedly at the disposal of 
M. Selpdorf. Yet the preamble troubled him. It 
seemed to be assumed that he might be tempted to 
evade his orders. 

T am to start at once, your Excellency ?’ 

Tn half an hour.’ Selpdorf’s face cleared, some- 
thing of his former geniality returned to him. ‘To- 
night, Captain Rallywood, the Duke has need of a 
man. There are others I might have sent whose 
claims are greater than yours, but you are my nom- 


HOW RALLY WOOD HAD HIS ORDERS. 237 

inee to the ranks of the Guard, and I would justify 
my choice. His Highness also is inclined to favour 
you.’ 

Selpdorf contemplated Rallywood kindly, as if 
prepared to be interested in his answer. He was 
trying to draw something from the man, but Rally- 
wood only stood straighter and hugged his wooden 
silence closer. Any reply he could make would give 
the advantage to Selpdorf. For the present he 
himself held it. It is often so. The man who 
speaks ten words has an advantage over the man 
who speaks a hundred. 

T thank your Excellency,’ he replied. 

‘There is,’ Selpdorf began again meditatively, as 
if permitting himself the luxury of a little frankness 
before a trusted adherent, ‘an end to everything and 
a beginning. The line drawn between the new and 
the old is never defined; the two overlap. We may 
regret the old, but since the new is irresistible, the 
wise make the best of it.’ He looked up with an alert 
interest. ‘In your own case. Captain Rallywood, 
you were not long ago at the dividing line yourself 
how has the new life treated you ?’ 

‘Well !’ said Rallywood as if flinging back a chal- 
lenge. 

The Chancellor’s round eyes met his. 

‘Ah, I thought it would be so! You were half 
inclined that night to let fortune go by you. You 
must mount her, man, not lead her by the bridle.’ 

Then Rallywood broke silence. 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


238 

‘I doubt, your Excellency, if she will carry me 
where I want to go, in spite of hard riding,' he said. 

That will depend upon yourself, I imagine. 
Good-day, Captain.’ 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


ON THE FRONTIER. 

The evening train was almost due. 

Upon the rise of a bare and windy ridge Rally- 
wood sat on horseback waiting. Man and horse 
seemed to be the only living things between the 
horizons. From his point of vantage he looked out 
over the dim, limitless marshes, north, south and 
west, and although the growing darkness rendered 
the few features of the landscape even less distin- 
guishable than usual, his practiced eye passed from 
point to point readily, for the flat map before him 
had been etched in upon his memory by the slow- 
graving stylus of use. 

The night promised to be clear and star-lit, for the 
tsa had risen to a gale, and a sudden frost succeed- 
ing the thaw had already thrust its iron fingers deep 
into the land. The cold was intense, and a raw 
wind, that had blown across a continent and a sea, 
came down obliquely upon Rallywood through a 
dip in the mountains. On one side the lines of the 
railway track ran up a curving incline into the Kofn 
Hills, where, five miles away at the bleak Frontier 
station, officials, imposingly uniformed, parade the 
platforms, examine the baggage, and demand pass- 
239 


240 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

ports in a manner calculated to impress the traveller 
with an idea of the immense resources of the State 
of Maasau. That is one part of their duties. The 
other is slavish obedience. ‘Do what you are or- 
dered, and the result will look after itself.’ Such is 
the creed. The first lesson taught them is that they 
must not hesitate, and they learn it thoroughly. 
Westwards the line slipped away into the sweep of 
low ground towards Alfau, the first stoppage on the 
way to Revonde. 

Rallywood drew his riding-cloak around him and 
settled down squarely into the saddle. The desolate 
plains with the crying wind held the loneliness of 
the damned. Occasionally a wolf howled in the dis- 
tance, or a wandering snipe cried as it lost itself 
among the stiffening reeds about the swampy levels, 
and through all he could hear the hoarse roar of the 
Kofn in flood, as it rushed down from its rocky bed, 
swollen with the melted snows of yesterday. An- 
other interval passed while the gray outlook changed 
to black. Then a red light appeared as it were over 
the edge of the world. Its coming afforded a certain 
break in the naked whimpering solitude of the plain. 

Slowly it crept down the incline, for the engines 
of Maasau, like Belgian pistols, are not made for 
rough usage. Rallywood rode forward to meet it, 
the tufts of grass crackling under his horse’s feet. 
But instead of slackening pace the chain of lighted 
carriages swept past him, and, gathering speed, 
wound away into the desolate night. 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


241 

Rallywood looked after it with a sense of blank- 
ness. The Chancellor’s exordium and the Duke’s 
remarks had rather primed him to a state of expecta- 
tion, and he felt as if he had been balked of he knew 
not what. The green light contracted and died 
away into the gloom ; then discontent mastered him. 
In his restless mood he had grasped at the situation, 
which had promised a stirring of the blood, but the 
train passed and thrust him back with a hand that 
seemed almost palpable in the staleness of ordinary 
life. When he left the Frontier he had left behind 
him the old content, the humorous adaptability to 
circumstances which had once been a main element 
of his character. 

Turning his horse’s head due west he rode slowly 
beside the track, where the metals had begun to 
gleam under the stars, and the wind drove behind 
him as if driving him out into the waste. He rode 
on for five minutes. Then he pulled up and listened. 
Through the whistling of the tsa and the dull roar 
of the river, he fancied he had detected some other 
sound. 

Puzzled, he turned and rode back at a hand-gallop 
in the teeth of the wind. As he rode, the noise be- 
came more distinct, and presently out of the night 
something black and bulky came jolting painfully 
and slowly down the slope of the railway track. 

As Rallywood drew rein alongside, he saw it was 
a single carriage, unlighted and solitary, rolling aim- 


242 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

lessly on towards the level ground through the 
gloom. 

Gradually the pace slackened, and at last with a 
rheumatic jerk backwards and forwards it came to 
a standstill. By this time also Rallywood had per- 
ceived that it occupied the further set of rails, on 
which the outgoing trains from Revonde travelled. 
And already the night mail could not be far away. 

He dropped from his saddle and in a second was 
feeling for his matches, while the horse fell to 
sniffing half-heartedly at the meagre herbage. 

Rallywood mounted the steps of the carriage, for 
the platforms in Maasau are very high, and turned 
the handle. Then, bending forward, he peered into 
the interior, but through the dusk the seats seemed 
empty. Rallywood stepped inside and lit a match. 
It sputtered in the frosty air and flickered for a sec- 
ond from the route-maps under the musty racks to 
the cushioned seats, and so downwards to a figure 
heaped on the floor-rug by the opposite door. 

This wandering carriage had then one occupant. 
Also he gave signs of life, for he grunted feebly in 
the dark as the match went out. 

Rallywood felt for the lamp above his head, for in 
Maasau the trains are lighted by oil lanterns let in 
over the doors. Finding it, he broke the glass with 
the butt of his revolver and lit the wick; then he 
turned for a closer examination of the man who had 
come to him in so strange a manner. But the man- 
ner pointed to the fact that this must be the prisoner 


ON THE FRONTIER. 243 

he was told to hold at Kofn Ford until to-morrow. 
Politics are apt to work out to curious issues in con- 
tinental railways. Such things have happened 
many times, though they are not often noised abroad. 
The man lay with one arm thrown across the seat 
and his face buried in it. He was a big man, and a 
fringe of white hair showed under the back of his 
travelling cap above a crease of fleshy neck. 

‘Counsellor !’ 

For an instant Rallywood turned sick and his head 
felt light. He remembered feeling the same sensa- 
tion years before, when a heavy opponent sat abrupt- 
ly down on his chest in -a football scrimmage. His 
hands shook as he lifted the inert figure on to the 
cushions and scanned the face, sticky and disfigured 
with blood. After forcing some brandy from his 
flask down Counsellor’s throat and unloosing his 
collar, Rallywood opened the window wide to let the 
cold air blow in upon him, and fired two shots from 
his revolver in rapid succession out into the night. 
They must have help, for the down mail was already 
at Alfau. 

By this time. Counsellor, grunting and swearing, 
had got himself up on his elbow and stared at the 
young man with vacant eyes. 

‘Where the deuce have 1 got to? Is that you, 
John ? By heaven, I remember !’ His fingers went 
groping weakly to his breast, then with a groan he 
struggled to his feet. ‘The ruffians have robbed 
me!’ 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


244 

But the effort exhausted him; he sank back put- 
ting his hands to his head. 

'I don’t understand this. What has happened? 
John, where am I ?’ 

Rallywood explained hurriedly. 

'We’re on the up line, Major. Have another pull 
at my flask, and see if you can get to the Ford block- 
house. The night mail will be on us directly. Ah, 
there are the m.en,’ as a stolid sergeant thrust his 
weather-beaten face in at the door. 

Rallywood gave the necessary orders rapidly, 
then turned to the Major. 

'Are you badly hurt? Do you think you can 
ride?’ said he. 

'Ride ! of course I can ride. How far is it to Re- 
vonde ?’ 

Rallywood put his arm round him, and helped 
him very tenderly from the carriage. 

Counsellor stood up in the howling wind and 
looked about him into the wild night. 

'I’ve had a nasty knock on the head, and I sup- 
pose they look to the night mail to finish the busi- 
ness. Make haste, John! where’s your horse? 
Treachery’s afoot to-night. I’ve lost my despatches 
— they robbed me of them! But I’ll beat them all 
yet! Give me your flask. How far is it to Re- 
vonde ?’ 

The troopers had dispersed, some to warn the 
coming train, others to arrange for the removal of 
the carriage from the track. 


ON THE FRONTIER. 245 

Counsellor had his foot in the stirrup, and with 
difficulty Rallywood got him up into the saddle. 

‘Thirty miles, but you cannot ride there to-night,’ 
answered Rallywood. 

'With your help I’ll beat them yet, John !’ Thirty 
miles? I’ll be there before daylight! I can go by 
the stars once I find the road.’ 

He stuck his heels into the horse’s side, but Rally- 
wood still held the bridle. 

A wild gust tore round them, and in the succeed- 
ing lull Rallywood laid his hand on the other man’s 
knee. 

‘Major Counsellor, you are my prisoner,’ he said. 

‘How’s this, John?’ the question came thin, piti- 
ful and weak. A new doubt, the old affection, and 
a strange helplessness mingled in the words, and they 
cut deep into Rallywood’s ears. 

‘That was a bad knock on the head,’ muttered the 
Major apologetically, and sank forward on the 
horse’s neck again unconscious. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 

The road towards the block-house ran along the 
river bank past the Kofn Ford. They went slowly 
on together through the starry windy night, Rally- 
wood with his hand on the bridle and the wounded 
man holding limply to the saddle. 

The tsa raved and rocked in the pine trees, 
through the pauses of the storm a wolf barked, and 
the black, tumbled water was still swelling and gulp- 
ing under the low stars. But the tumult of noises 
only served to accentuate the hideous loneliness 
which is the salient characteristic of the Frontier. 

Counsellor, with an unaccustomed warfare in his 
heart — rage and the pity of it working together — 
stared into space across the leaping river. 

As the two men drew near the ford, they saw 
the dim figure of a horseman riding down the bank 
on the opposite side, with the evident intention of 
crossing. The approaches to the ford were flooded, 
for the angry water fretted out its banks at such 
times and deepened into dangerous swirls over the 
crossing-place. 

Rallywood checked the horse to shout and signal 
to the man that the ford was impassable, but his 

246 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 247 

voice was drowned by the harsh throated noises of 
the night. Weak as was the starlight, something of 
the loose reckless swing in the saddle told Rally- 
wood that the rider was Anthony Unziar. Unziar 
galloped down the stones of the incline and plunged 
into the torrent. It was clear from where he took 
the water that he intended to make for the little 
beach below the block-house. His course was 
marked by a whitish rise in the water ; now and then 
the watchers on the bank lost sight of the struggling 
figure as a tree-trunk whirled past and hid him, or 
he seemed to sink in some tormented eddy, but he 
came into view again and always nearer. At the 
last moment, whether horse and man were exhausted 
or whether a furious tangle of cross-currents caught 
them, they were swung round and away from the 
landing-point. 

It was now evident that Unziar saw Rallywood, 
for in answer to the latter’s signs that he must make 
for the shallows lower down, Unziar waved some 
object over his head as if to call attention to it. The 
suck of the current was fast drawing him away, but 
with another strong effort he got the horse’s head 
round; they heard his faint shout upon the wind 
then the words came more clearly : 

‘Carry them on — Selpdorf!’ He flung some- 
thing forwards; the gale caught and hurled it on to 
the rocks at Rallywood’s feet. 

When they looked again Unziar had disappeared. 

Hurrying up to the block-house, Rallywood sent 


248 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

off some troopers to Unziar’s assistance; then with 
some difficulty got his prisoner, who was stiff and 
dizzy, on his feet and supported him to the room 
where Madame de Sagan and Valerie had rested on 
the night of the snow-storm. 

Rally wood did all that could be done for Coun- 
sellor, then he sat down at the narrow table to face 
his position. The tsa battered at the little window, 
and the camp-bed creaked under Counsellor's weight 
as he turned and groaned upon it, while Rallywood 
sat with soul and body absorbed in the consciousness 
that at last the time of which Counsellor had warned 
him was come, the time when he should find his 
enemies dressed in red. Under almost any other 
circumstances it would have been possible to retire 
from the position with honour. Had war been 
declared between England and Maasau, he could 
have resigned his commission. But to-night he 
found himself without any such means of escape, fast 
in the jaws of the cleverly-contrived trap set for him 
by Selpdorf. 

But he scarcely yet knew the worst. Presently 
Counsellor spoke. 

‘This thing has gone beyond a joke,’ he said, 
‘What does it mean?’ The glance from under the 
overhanging gray brows had regained its fire. 

‘My orders are simple enough. I am to keep 
you here until to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock.’ 

‘By doing so you will ruin Maasau as a free State 
and bring a most serious defeat upon the British 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 249 

policy.’ Counsellor’s voice was rasping. ‘Are you 
prepared for that?’ 

Both men were strenuous, and bred deep into the 
bone of each were the same dominant qualities. 

‘I am prepared to carry out my orders,’ answered 
Rallywood; ‘I had them practically from the Duke 
himself.’ 

‘The Duke is of the same mind in which I found 
him at the Castle, though he may be forced to dis- 
semble,’ asserted Counsellor; then with a twist he 
sat up as his glance fell upon the square dark object 
lying on the table between them. ‘John Rallywood, 
do you know what that is?’ 

‘The despatches thrown to me by Unziar.’ 

‘That case is mine ; it contains my private instruc- 
tions; you can guess something of their importance 
from the fact that I have been robbed of them. You 
must give them back to me ! As an Englishman and 
an honest man, I call upon you to give them back to 
me.’ 

Rallywood’s long nervous fingers closed over the 
packet. 

‘It is impossible!’ he said. ‘As an Englishman, 
yes, but as an honest man well, it — it is hard to say.’ 

‘Are you mad?’ cried Counsellor. 

‘I have not had long to think it out, and it is a 
tangled question,’ replied Rallywood wearily. 

‘A tangled question? I take it you are first of 
all an Englishman?’ 

‘In my private capacity, and that deals with my 


250 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

private honour; but I have undertaken another re- 
sponsibility from which I cannot withdraw at pleas- 
ure. I am a sworn soldier of Maasau, and as such 
my public honour has first claim.’ 

It was a simple rendering of a tremendous prob- 
lem, but it served for Rallywood. 

Then ’ said Counsellor. 

There was a rush and a scuffle, but Rallywood 
was young and strong and more active than the Ma- 
jor. 

^Confound you!’ Counsellor fell back a step or 
two, breathing hard. There are some situations 
which by their elemental force destroy all other 
emotions. The situation at Kofn guard-house was 
one of these. The point at issue between these two 
men pierced to the bed-rock of national loyalty. 
Perhaps Blivinski was right. Love of country was 
part of their physical equipment, yet by the irony of 
circumstances they were pitted against each other. 

Will you give me your parole?’ asked Rallywood 
with his back to the door. 

Counsellor drew out a big watch. 

‘For fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘It is now half- 
past nine; at forty-five minutes past I shall hold 
myself once more free to do what I can. You un- 
derstand? In the meantime we will talk.’ 

Rallywood motioned Counsellor back to the camp 
bed while he himself sat down on the table. 

‘I fancy, John, we are both rather in the dark 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 25 I 

about all this/ began Counsellor. ‘Tell me your 
story, and I’ll tell you mine.’ 

‘My orders were clear enough,’ Rallywood said. ‘I 
was to take charge of a prisoner, to be brought to 
me by the incoming mail at the spot where I met you. 
You arrived queerly, I admit, rolling along the down 
line, but you are undoubtedly the person of whom 
I was instructed to take charge.’ 

‘Ah — I begin to see. There may be many men in 
Maasau who would rob me, but there is only one 
man who could do it so clumsily.’ 

‘Count Sagan?’ 

‘Naturally. But to return, I left you at the Cas- 
tle looking for Colendorp; whether you found him 
or not does not come into this affair. Perhaps he 
was in Sagan’s way and he removed him ’ 

‘With a knife.’ 

‘That is quite in the Count’s manner. Well, I got 
safely to England, where my business took a day and 
a half longer than I expected. I received my de- 
spatches, and five hundred miles from here I took 
the precaution of removing them from my despatch- 
box. After we left the Frontier station I noticed 
that our train had lost half its length, and that I was 
in the last carriage. I didn’t like it. It is never 
healthy for a despatch-box to travel in an end com- 
partment. That is tempting of Fate.’ 

Counsellor stopped as if to collect his thoughts 
again. 

‘After a little the pace slackened and I felt a sharp 


252 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

jolt. They were switching me on to the down line, 
an improvement upon the original plan so like the 
Count’s manner that it almost proves he must have 
been on the spot superintending operations. Next 
it was a face at the window. I used my revolver, 
but they stunned me and robbed me and left it 
to the night mail to close my mouth for good. Now 
you know where you are, John Rally wood; you are 
abetting a crime, and a crime against your own 
country, against England !’ 

Rallywood laughed, but a laugh against oneself 
has a bad sound with it. 

Tt seems the day has come when I find my enemies 
dressed in red !’ he said. 

‘Why, yes, if you choose to put it so. If you 
either carry these despatches on for Unziar or re- 
main to keep me prisoner, you play Germany’s game 
for her.’ 

‘Perhaps not,’ suggested Rallywood. ‘The Chan- 
cellor sent me here.’ 

Counsellor’s short angry grunt of derision sur- 
prised him. 

‘Mademoiselle Valerie may be loyal, but Selpdorf 
is at the bottom of the whole plot. Does he guess 
there is any bond of liking or interest between you 
and his daughter ? If so, he sent you here to break 
you ! He knew that between the conflicting claims 
of a man’s public and private honour lie shame and 
often death. Do you not see that amongst them 
they are bent on ruining you? Just now, when I 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 253 

hoped all might be yours that a man can ask fori 
Your Chicago cousin at Queen’s Fain is dying and 
you are his heir. Yet you are to be ruined — ruined 
by the hate of Elmur and Sagan, and what are you 
to Selpdorf but a fly to be crushed whose presence 
annoys him?’ 

‘Are you sure of this? His sending me to be 
witness of your assassination fits in badly with the 
theory of his collusion.’ 

‘Perfectly; Sagan stultified the scheme, that was 
all. Selpdorf forgot that Sagan is a wild beast who 
can only be fed with blood!’ Counsellor paused. 
‘The highway robbery with violence to which I have 
been subjected is Sagan’s bull-headed translation of 
Selpdorf’s hint to detain me. Thus, according to 
their calculations, before I can get to Revonde the 
Duke will have been induced to lend himself to some 
other course. It is not hard to read their tactics. 
They run on old lines. So you see there is only one 
way out of it — you must help me, John.’ 

What advice he might have offered to Rallywood 
as simple man to man occupied no place in Coun- 
sellor’s intentions. He was England’s envoy as op- 
posed to her antagonists, and into the scale in her 
favour he meant to throw the whole of his personal 
influence with Rallywood. 

Rallywood made a sign of dissent. 

‘But surely you will not side with Sagan’s party 
as against the Duke?’ urged Counsellor. 


254 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

The Duke has been known to change his mind 
before now.’ 

Counsellor bit savagely at his moustache. The 
minutes were flying. 

T wonder if old Gustave has allowed himself to 
be humbugged yet once more!’ he said to himself. 
'John, on which side do you suppose Valerie Selp- 
dorf would wish to see you?’ 

‘We need not mention her,’ answered Rally wood 
stiffly. 

‘What? Have you not spoken? Does she not 
know ?’ 

‘She knows — yes, and others know too that I love 
her. But it is ended. There is nothing more; 
there never can be now.’ 

Counsellor put his hand to his head. 

‘Will you help me? That after all is the ques- 
tion.’ 

Rallywood looked down at him, and Counsellor 
fancied there was a shadow of reproach in the glance. 

‘For you that is the question, but for me there is 
another,’ Rallywood said deliberately. ‘Until I can 
resign my oath to Maasau, honour holds me her 
sworn soldier.’ 

‘Of all things in the world what is so arbitrary as 
honour?’ cried Counsellor. ‘Honour is a wild 
flower ; God plants it, but man prunes it, and the devil 
only can be responsible for the sports one some- 
times meets with. Well, go your own and the dev- 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 255 

il’s way!’ The Major turned irritably round. Tn 
my creed a man’s first duty is to his country.’ 

T wish I could see it so,’ said Rallywood sadly. 
Then the hush of the mighty battle fell upon the lit- 
tle room. The air was stifling to both, for Coun- 
sellor knew what was in his companion’s heart and 
even felt a far-off pity for him, but no relenting. 
Rallywood’s handsome brown face had grown sud- 
denly sharp and aged, and his gray eyes contracted 
to dark points under their frowning lids. The man 
was looking on the wreck of his life, and slowly com- 
ing to the conclusion that he must choose that course 
which would add the defeat of the land he loved to 
his own ruin. He would have died for England, 
happy in the sacrifice, but to lose all in her despite 
was a bitter thing. 

‘Time’s up,’ said the Major. ‘You have one min- 
ute to give me your decision.’ 

‘A soldier should see no further than the point of 
his sword,’ replied Rallywood. ‘An oath stands be- 
tween me and my desires. These despatches may 
be yours, but you know how they have come into 
my charge. As long as I am a soldier of Maasau, 
my duty to her comes first of all. I cannot let you 
go nor can I give up these despatches I Curse you I’ 
a strong flash of emotion breaking in upon the re- 
straint of his speech, ‘why have you no sword? If 
you had killed me ’ 

Counsellor put his watch back into his pocket. 

‘A man’s country should be his conscience,’ said 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


256 

the old diplomatist, as one who pronounces a definite 
and unassailable truth. Then he waited. 

Rallywood stood up. 

T cannot argue,’ he said, ‘but Major, you will be- 
lieve me when I say that I see my duty plainly. I 
refuse!’ 

‘I have had a great regard for you,’ replied Coun- 
sellor slowly, ‘but if you were my own son, by Heav- 
en, I’d blow your brains out to-night ! Give me 
those despatches.’ 

There was a rapid movement and the gleam of a 
pistol barrel in his hand. 

‘Thank God!’ It was not more than the faintest 
whisper from Rallywood as he sprang at his com- 
panion. 

But there was no report, only an ominous click as 
Counsellor flung the unloaded revolver in Rally- 
wood’s face with a bitter word. 

‘It was not loaded.’ 

Hardly had they closed when the door was opened 
and a couple of men supported Unziar into the 
room. The water ran in streams from his clothes to 
the floor, while he stood and stared at the two com- 
batants who had fallen apart. 

‘I suppose they sent you to meet me, Rallywood,’ 
he said in English ; ‘it is lucky, for I’m done ! You 
must carry those despatches on without delay, for 
they must reach the Chancellor at the earliest pos- 
sible moment. Go ; there is no time to lose!’ 

Rallywood pointed to Counsellor. 


A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES. 257 

‘This gentleman is my prisoner. You will keep 
him here until further orders. Meantime I will 
ride on with these to Revonde.’ 

Counsellor and Unziar remained together, but no 
word passed between them till out in the windy night 
they heard the beat of hoofs as Rallywood rode away 
on his mission. 


CHAPTER XXVL 


love's handicap. 

As Rallywood galloped steadily through the night 
under the shrinking moon, with the tsa behind him 
and the pearl-grey road withering away into the level 
distance ahead, it happened that the two women of 
whom he must have had some thoughts during that 
lonely ride met and spoke together. 

‘Valerie, I called for you to go with me to the 
Abenfeldt’s reception, because I have a question to 
ask you,' began Isolde at once when the door of the 
carriage was closed. 

The passing lamps shone varyingly upon their 
faces as they passed through the lighted streets, and 
Madame de Sagan looked at her companion. 

‘Where is Captain Rallywood?' she added ab- 
ruptly. 

His name had not passed between them since the 
interview at the blockhouse. 

‘I cannot tell you. I don't know,' said Valerie 
coldly. 

‘Oh, my dear child, all is fair in love and war! 
Why be so dreadfully cross with me still ?' 

‘Is it necessary to recur to the subject at all?' 

‘Will you never forgive me, I wonder?' 

258 


love's handicap. 


259 

Valerie looked steadily back into the lovely face, 
where the underlying spirit of mockery was trans- 
muted into an innocent playfulness like a child’s. 

‘On the contrary, I thank you.’ 

‘Why — for humbling him? Valerie, you are 

f 

‘Happy!’ Valerie could not forego the very wo- 
manly triumph, ‘very happy! And you made me 
so.’ 

‘But,’ said Isolde with some perplexity, ‘you would 
have it that he did not mean what he said.’ 

In her heart she thought Valerie a great goose for 
making any such disclaimer. Vanity has know- 
ledge of no tongue whereby to interpret pride. 

‘No, but it showed me what he was.’ 

‘I wonder how Baron von Elmur would like to 
hear that his future wife was not ashamed to declare 
her love for another man !’ retorted Isolde. 

‘I mean to tell him.’ 

‘No, no, Valerie, don’t!’ exclaimed Madame de 
Sagan, whose weakness exuded very often in a sort 
of kind-heartedness, ‘I should not tell him. Such a 
confidence is apt to turn sour in a husband’s memory. 
You may trust me — I will keep your secret.’ Val- 
erie smiled scornfully. 

‘But I can keep a secret! For instance, I want 
to hear where Captain Rallywood is, because I know 
the Count hates him, and also,’ she nodded her head 
slowly, ‘and also our dear friend Baron von Elmur.’ 

Valerie was startled. 


26 o a modern mercenary. 

'Baron von Elmur?’ she repeated. 

‘Oh, you quite mistake the matter. The ill-feeling 
has nothing to do whatever with you or with me. 
The Count and von Elmur hate him on very different 
grounds. Everything appears to interest men now- 
adays but ourselves !’ she ended sadly. 

‘Because he is English, perhaps?’ 

‘Well, yes, it has something to do with it. You 
remember that last night at the Castle ? I conclude 
it was Jack who spoiled their plans when Simon and 
the Baron went to the Duke’s apartments.’ 

‘The Count and Baron von Elmur together? 
What did they go for?’ 

The question dried up the little stream of babble. 

‘How should I know? But there was a fight — 
I’d back Jack against most people! That is one 
reason I — liked him. We heard the shots, and 
though I was horribly frightened I told you none of 
the particulars, yet I knew all. Speak to me, Val- 
erie! What are you thinking of?’ 

Valerie had been rapidly going over in her mind 
the incidents Isolde had alluded to. For the first 
time she understood. There had been a German 
plot which she had helped to defeat, a plot to place 
Count Sagan at the head of the State, and the price 
he was to pay was the freedom of Maasau. She must 
see her father before she slept and warn him of the 
conspiracy, which although it had failed temporarily 
at the Castle of Sagan was still in existence. She 
felt certain that her father knew nothing of the Ger- 


love's handicap. 


261 


man plot, nor of Sagan’s bitter enmity against him- 
self, as proved by the attempt on her own life. 
Fears for her father, for Rally wood, and for Maa- 
sau crowded upon her, though she kept up an appear- 
ance of composure that Isolde might not guess the 
importance of the information she had given. 

‘I was thinking of Captain Rallywood,’ answered 
the girl at last, offering the excuse Isolde would be 
most likely to accept as true. ‘I did not know he 
had so many enemies. But is he not in Revonde ?’ 

‘No, he has not been at the barracks since yester- 
day afternoon. I sent him an invitation. You 
never give me credit for sincerity, but I am steady in 
my friendships. I do not mean to drop him because 
he talked all that nonsense at Kofn Ford. You 
boasted about M. Selpdorf’s power — make him use 
it now to save Rallywood. I begin to believe that 
you are really as cold as you pretend to be, Valerie, 
you care so little ! Whereas I, in spite of all that has 
happened, would serve him if I could.’ 

‘I shall see my father when I return to-night, I 
promise you.’ 

Isolde buttoned her glove thoughtfully. 

‘You must be careful not to let him suspect that 
you have any especial interest in Jack,’ she said, ’for 
that would be merely an additional reason for letting 
Rallywood — go.’ 

Valerie could not misunderstand the euphemisrn. 

‘Isolde, my father is not a savage !’ she exclaimed. 

‘Perhaps not,’ said Madame de Sagan simply. 


262 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘He is, I know, a very charming man in society, but 
my experience goes to show that every man is a ssly- 
age — au fond.' 

Words which embody the opinion of more women 
than one cares to number. 

It was three o’clock when an officer of the Guard, 
leaving the wind-swept darkness of the country be- 
hind him, rode through the north gate of Revonde 
into the vivid black and white perspectives of the 
city, where close outside the brilliant line of electric 
lights night herself seemed to stand incarnate, a 
jealous intensity of blackness. 

Rallywood had picked up Unziar’s relays of horses 
at certain points, and on the whole had made good 
time of the ride. Now he crossed the bridge that 
lies opposite to the gate of the Palace, and mounted 
the curving streets towards the Chancellerie. 

He swung from his horse at the foot of the broad 
flight of granite steps under its overhanging portico 
as a carriage dashed up on the other side. The high 
doors above were flung open and a roll of red cloth 
dropped from step to step down to the pavement, a 
couple of footmen placing it with the quick deftness 
of use until it reached the carriage. 

As she alighted Mademoiselle Selpdorf recog- 
nised the tall figure in the travel-stained riding cloak. 

‘Captain Rallywood, where have you come from ?’ 
she asked almost involuntarily. 

‘From the frontier. Mademoiselle.’ 

‘Will you give me your arm? What has hap- 


love's handicap. 263 

pened? Has Major Counsellor come back?’ she 
whispered as they went up the steps. 

‘He is at the Ford. He has met with an accident.’ 

Valerie said no more, but as she entered the hall 
she read Rally wood’s face. 

‘Has his Excellency returned?’ she asked of an 
attendant. ‘Then place refreshments in the small 
library. Captain Rally wood, I will join you in a 
few moments. M. Selpdorf will be home very soon. 
He is anxious to see you.’ 

It was a little necessary make believe before the 
numerous servants. How far it deceived them may 
be faintly guessed when^one considers anyone’s se- 
crets in relation to anyone’s servants. 

‘Man designs his own game,’ thought Rallywood 
as he followed the servant into whose charge he was 
given, ‘or he is forced to stand out and circumstances 
play it for him. In the years all is one.’ 

Whichever way the issue of this night’s work 
turned, Maasau and Valerie must both pass from his 
life forever. The one supreme obstacle which lurks 
always beside the mercenary’s path had arisen to bar 
his advance at last. 

Valerie opened the door softly. She was trem- 
bling and afraid, but she would not be outdone in 
generosity by Rallywood. She had determined to 
thank him for the words spoken at Kofn Ford, and 
to show him how entirely she comprehended their 
chivalrous intention. But when her eyes fell upon 
him all thought of self faded. He was standing 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


264 

midway between the gleaming wine and glass of the 
sidetable and the flickering glow of the open stove, 
upright and stately as he ever appeared to her, but 
in his new attitude her sharpened senses perceived a 
suggestion of disheartenment and solitude. 

Swept away by the feeling of the moment, she 
crossed the room to his side and laid her hand upon 
his arm. 

What is it? Something has happened,’ she said. 

Rally wood looked down at her. The beautiful 
eyes like star-lit darkness, her clear-hued loveliness, 
the soft dusky curls about her brow, her girlish re- 
serves and petulances, all her sweet unapproachable 
personality enhanced to pain the knowledge that he 
was looking his last upon them. 

‘Nothing to distress you. Mademoiselle, because 
M. Selpdorf knows all about it.’ 

‘Then tell me ; I know so much already.’ 

‘I wish I could. But I think his Excellency might 
prefer to tell you himself.’ 

‘Is it good news, then? Major Counsellor has 
succeeded ? Then why are you so sad ?’ 

‘Sad, Mademoiselle?’ he answered with a smile. 
‘Men often look sad when they are only hungry and 
dog-tired.’ 

‘Then eat,’ she said. ‘Let me give you some wine.’ 

She drew him to the table and poured out a glass 
of wine. 

‘To the success of Maasau and of England,’ she 


love's handicap. 265 

said. Then touching it with her lips in the graceful 
fashion of Maasau, she handed it to him. 

‘Hark! I think I hear my father arriving, and 
there is something I must say to you before he 
comes.’ 

She clasped her hands nervously, the bare shapely 
hands with their gleaming rings, and Rally wood 
watched her and felt as if he were dreaming. 

‘Captain Rallywood, I want to thank you. I can 
never thank you enough for that night at Kofn Ford. 
I understood — pray believe I understood it — and 
I think you are the noblest gentleman alive 1’ 

Rallywood did not hesitate. There was one thing 
Valerie should know and be certain of in the uncer- 
tain future. 

‘Give me a moment, Mademoiselle,’ he exclaimd, 
detaining her. ‘I see you do not quite understand. 
I could not expect you to understand. But now — 
now that I am leaving Maasau, I must tell you the 
truth. Perhaps you will believe it some day. I am 
proud ’ 

‘I know it, and yet you — oh, say no more! For 
my sake you stooped to say it. It was not true! 
But I knew that.’ 

He took her hands between his own in a firm 
strong clasp. 

‘Listen, Mademoiselle. It was true! Since first 
I saw you it has always been true !’ 

‘I remember!’ she said breathlessly. She could 
not help saying it. 


266 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


‘Do you ?’ he answered ; the temptation to wander 
a little was too sweet. ‘You wore this cloak/ he 
touched it softly with his fingers, then laid his hand 
over hers deliberately, in the quiet confident way in 
which he did exerything and which she had grown 
to love, ‘and ever since I have carried the glove you 
despised. And though this is my good-bye, I will 
carry it — always.^ 

‘But — but ' 

‘Oh, I don’t ask you to believe me now,’ he said 
bitterly. ‘I am not noble. Mademoiselle. I was 
only too proud to say I loved you that night, as,’ with 
another smile, ‘I was only too proud not to say it be- 
fore.’ 

Valerie raised her face and her eyes were full of 
light. 

‘Then it was true — thank God !’ 

But Rallywood, though he saw the purpose of her 
speech, would not understand its significance. He 
led her towards the door by which she had entered. 

‘You must go, Mademoiselle. I — dare not keep 
you with me longer. Good-bye, and may God go 
with you, Valerie!’ 

She stopped suddenly and kissed the hand that 
held hers. 

‘I too am proud,’ she whispered, and the door 
closed upon her. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE MAN OF THE HOUR. 

‘Selpdorf is the man of the hour/ Counsellor once 
said to Rally wood, and the Major’s sayings had a 
trick of lingering in the memory. With the Chan- 
cellor then still remained the key to the situation. 
He was implicated in the conspiracy, but he had less 
to gain and far more to lose than the others. A 
dangerous condition and one possible of develop- 
ment. 

All this passed in a flash through Rallywood’s mind 
as the opposite door opened to admit M. Selpdrof, 
who replied stiffly to Rallywood’s bow. 

T was not prepared to see you this evening,’ be- 
gan Selpdorf. 

T have brought the despatches, your Excellency,’ 
replied Rallywood, taking the packet from his pocket 
but continuing to hold it in his hand. 

Selpdorf eyed him. 

‘From whom?’ 

‘Lieutenant Unziar.’ 

The affair was falling out in an unexpected man- 
ner. Selpdorf was a student of human nature as all 
of his craft must be, and Rallywood offered for his 
observation a character out of the common and hard 
267 


268 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


for a Maasaun to read. How had he escaped from 
the dilemma in which he had been so carefully 
placed ? The Chancellor was curious to hear. The 
man was an artist in the human passions. 

‘From Lieutenant Unziar?’ Selpdorf repeated 
tentatively. ‘And your prisoner? The man whom 
I ordered you to keep at the block-house ?’ 

The Chancellor half expected to hear that Coun- 
sellor was also in Revonde, and that Rallywood with 
an unassuming but unspeakable effrontery had called 
to explain his own view of the matter. 

‘Unziar is with him — with Major Counsellor at 
Kofn Ford. Unziar was unable to ride on at once 
after crossing the river, which is in flood. There- 
fore I have come.’ 

Was it possible Rallywood had merely shirked fac- 
ing the difficulty in this way? thought Selpdorf. 

‘Ah, Major Counsellor? And these are the de- 
spatches ?’ 

‘These are Major Counsellor’s private despatches, 
which were stolen from him within the frontier of 
Maasau!’ said Rallywood. 

Selpdorf’ s round eyes showed their lids in an odd 
flicker. The attack was sudden. He brushed his 
moustache upwards with a thoughtful movement of 
the finger and thumb, regarding Rallywood as he 
did so. 

‘Then why have you brought them to me?’ he 
said at last. 

‘Because a soldier should see no further than the 


THE MAN OF THE HOUR. 269 

point of his sword, your Excellency,’ replied Rally- 
wood slowly. 

‘Good ! And how do you come to know what the 
packet contains?’ 

‘The persons who robbed Major Counsellor did 
not even take the precaution of placing it under an- 
other cover. He recognised it at the block-house.’ 

‘It seems to me then that you had a decision to 
make at the block-house?’ 

‘Yes,’ said Rally wood simply. 

But it was not a subject to bear discussion. 

‘As a soldier of Maasau you decided rightly.’ 
Selpdorf misjudged Rally wood for the moment; it 
crossed his mind that this was a mercenary after all 
and to be bought. 

‘But as a man I now wish to resign my commis- 
sion.’ 

Selpdorf raised his brows. 

‘But why? At the very moment when you have 
proved your faithfulness and your zeal? When we 
owe you recognition of these high qualities ?’ 

‘I want nothing, your Excellency, but to go out 
from this house a free man,’ returned Rallywood 
coldly. 

‘Reconsider your words, Captain Rallywood.’ 

‘Even if other difficulties had not arisen,’ went 
on Rallywood, ‘I may remind your Excellency that 
a soldier’s oath does not cover robbery and assassi- 
nation.’ 

Selpdorf was, and looked, astonished. 


270 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

‘I don’t understand you,’ he said gravely. Tray 
tell me what you mean.’ 

‘I found Major Counsellor alone and unconscious 
in a single carriage that had been sent rolling down 
the incline on the line where the outgoing mail train 
could not fail to collide with it. The inference is 
clear. Some one wished to make an end of him — 
in a railway accident. But the plan was a curiously 
stupid one, for nothing could satisfactorily explain 
Major Counsellor’s presence there, since it was well 
known to the British Legation in Revonde that he 
was entering not leaving Maasau.’ 

Selpdorf stood silent. Here was another ill-de- 
vised amendment born of Count Sagan’s blunder- 
ing brain. 

Tt is a very strange story,’ he said at length. ‘Had 
the train come in collision with the carriage which 
you assert was on the down line- ’ 

‘The troops from Kofn and the railway people at 
Alfau can prove that.’ 

‘The mail might have been derailed, with no one 
can tell what loss of life.’ 

‘Count Simon holds life cheap,’ said Rallywood. 
‘No life that stands in his way can be safe. Not 
even the life of Mademoiselle Selpdorf !’ 

The Chancellor was moved for once. 

‘You are out of your senses !’ he said sternly. 

‘It is true!’ 

Both men looked around. Valerie had entered. 


THE MAN OF THE HOUR. 27 I 

Tather, you must hear me before you — before 
you ’ 

She glanced at Rallywood and stopped. 

‘Go, Valerie; you have nothing to do with these 
things.’ 

Selpdorf met her as she came towards him. 

‘You must hear me to-night, father. You are 
mistaken ; I have had a great deal to do with them. 
I know all that Captain Rallywood has said to you 
— yes, I had a right to know. For it was I who 
brought Major Counsellor to the Duke’s apartments 
at the Castle, because I knew there was a plot against 
his Highness. But I did not know it was a German 
plot in which Baron von Elmur was using Count 
Sagan. Oh, you must be on your guard against 
them !’ 

‘Who has been frightening you with all this non- 
sense?’ asked Selpdorf with cold suspicion. 

‘You don’t understand me! Father, I know how 
Captain Colendorp died. I saw it — the struggle and 
his fall over the cliff. Then I guessed his Highness 
was in danger, and I went to warn him. Captain 
Rallywood, tell my father of Count Sagan’s visit to 
the Duke’s rooms in the middle of the night with 
Baron von Elmur. I — we, Isolde and I — heard the 
shots. You do not know it, but there is a plot. 
Your life is not safe I Captain Rallywood is right ; 
no life that stands in Count Sagan’s way is safe! 
And you on whom the State depends — you who 


272 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

alone can uphold her liberty — you are the first they 
will try to destroy ! He hates you, else why should 
he try to kill me?’ 

She was clinging to his arm. 

‘To kill you? If I thought that was true — if I 
could believe he meant to injure you ’ 

It added very much to Selpdorf’s difficulties that 
he had a conscience and a heart. Perhaps Valerie 
had kept both awake. He, who acted a part to all 
the world, had been sedulous to maintain a high role 
before his daughter. Perhaps he valued her abso- 
lute faith in him even more than her love, which is a 
commoner attitude of mind than we realise. 

He felt himself at fault. Although he had heard 
no details to enable him to judge for himself, yet he 
knew he could rely upon Valerie’s statement that an 
attempt had been made upon her life. Count Si- 
mon’s unscrupulousness was an old tale, but this 
crime was not only cold-blooded but also extraor- 
dinarily stupid, since the faintest suspicion of foul 
play would finally estrange the one person in all 
Maasau whose help was necessary to the success of 
his plans and hopes. It is to be doubted whether the 
Count’s ineptitude did not disgust the Chancellor 
more thoroughly than his treachery towards Valerie. 

Selpdorf was at no time a man who made up his 
mind irrevocably. Astuteness sometimes keeps step 
with uncertainty. To a clever man so many sides 
of a question are visible. On all counts he was now 
prepared to yield to Valerie’s wishes; perhaps look- 


THE MAN OF THE HOUR. 273 

ing ahead even in that moment, he saw a fresh com- 
bination before him, which, while quite equally safe 
and useful to himself, omitted Count Sagan. 

The Chancellor raised his eyes. At this moment 
— diplomatically — he was superb. He had an air 
of sagacious decision, an air of holding a master- 
stroke in reserve, whereas he was in reality merely 
retiring to a negative position to wait upon events. 

‘Tell me the story,’ he said. 

‘There is nothing further to tell,’ replied Rally- 
wood. ‘Mademoiselle has given you the main facts. 
But for her Maasau would to-day be a province of 
Germany, in fact if nothin name. 

‘I have been misinformed and deceived in an in- 
comprehensible manner,’ the Chancellor said em- 
phatically. There was still the matter of Counsel- 
lor’s despatches. Nothing was now to be gained by 
keeping them, whereas by giving them back to the 
old diplomatist, Maasau was sure to profit for the 
time at least. The difficulty was to get rid of the 
packet without loss of prestige to himself. ‘Now 
as to Major Counsellor’s despatches,’ he added 
doubtfully. 

‘You will send them back to him,’ said Valerie ea- 
gerly. 

‘You cannot see the difficulty of my position.’ 
The Chancellor laid his hand upon her shoulder. 
‘To be frank with you, and in confidence. Captain 
Rallywood, I have not been ignorant that an under- 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


274 

standing existed between Count Sagan and the Bar- 
on von Elmur. I have even been obliged to counte- 
nance it to a certain extent. As you know, they are 
aware that these despatches have been sent to me. 
If I use them as my daughter suggests, I need scarce- 
ly point out that trouble must ensue, since I, more or 
less, represent Maasau. Now we cannot afford to 
offend Germany. She only awaits a pretext to hurl 
down her army of occupation upon us. Had I never 
had those despatches the way might have been 
easier.' 

His glance at Rallywood held a large reproach. 
‘But, father, in honesty and justice ' — 

‘It is a case of private justice as opposed to nation- 
al necessity. If Captain Rallywood had sacrificed 
his public to his private honour, if he had chosen 
to prefer his country's cause to his oath of fealty — ' 
Rallywood understood. 

‘No one knows I am here,' he said. 

‘Ah, true!' 

‘No one need ever know where the despatches have 
been. In four hours they shall be with Major Coun- 
sellor at the British Legation.' 

‘If you. Captain Rallywood, will bear the whole 
responsibility that would simplify the matter. Oth- 
erwise it is war.' Selpdorf looked meaningly at 
Rallywood as he spoke. 

But Valerie was not deceived. 

‘Not that! not that!' she cried. 


THE MAN OF THE HOUR. 275 

‘It must be that or nothing.’ Selpdorf did not 
look at her and he spoke almost brusquely. 

‘I know what it means. They will say he was 
false to his oath ! Oh, father, is there no other way ? 
I cannot let him go !’ 

Rally wood’s face changed. Fate was crushing 
her two strange gifts into his hands, love and death 
at the same moment! He crossed to Valerie’s side, 
and drawing her to him his gray eyes looked their 
courage and their happiness into hers. 

‘My darling, this makes it easy, whatever comes !’ 

Tt may be death ! It will be death I’ He winced 
at the low agonised whisper. 

She turned to her father. 

‘Father, you have the power to do anything you 
please in Maasau. You will save him for me ! You 
can save him I Promise me that or I cannot let him 
go!’ 

Selpdorf was touched. He liked Rallywood. 
There was much in the single-hearted soldier that 
appealed to his sympathies. But 

‘I will not deceive you, Valerie, at such a time as 
this,’ he answered gently ; ‘I cannot foresee what may 
happen. I may not be able to prevent the worst. 
Captain Rallywood holds the despatches. He offers 
to sacrifice himself for the State, and the decision 
rests with you.’ 

Valerie buried her face in her hands. The clock 
moved noiselessly on and on, and the very air seemed 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


276 

to throb in the silence. Then the girl raised her 
head and looked steadily at Rallywood. 

Tt would not be love if I said otherwise. You 
would not love me if I said otherwise. You must 
go, John!’ 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE ARREST. 

By the following evening tongues were busy in 
Revonde. Rumour and mystery and an absence of 
any definite information added zest to the town talk. 
The broken reports were curious. 

Major Counsellor had fallen down the staircase 
at the British Legation and injured his head, his 
brow being much contused. His return to Revonde 
was explained on the ground that Germany and Eng- 
land had joined forces in compelling Selpdorf to les- 
sen the heavy taxation with which Maasau was bur- 
dened. Count Sagan had been seen in the city with 
a lowering face — ah, yes ! it was well known he had 
a most patriotic distrust of German interference. 
Madame de Sagan had quarreled with her husband 
because she had insisted on helping Mademoiselle 
Selpdorf, who was about to be married to Baron von 
Elmur, in the choice of her trousseau. Some ex- 
citement was being caused in the Guards’ barracks by 
the case of Captain Rallywood, whom Count Sagan 
accused of using his influence unduly with his 
brother-officers to forward the projects of Germany. 
Some even went so far as to say that he was in 
arrest, and others were found who shook their heads 
277 


278 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

and laughed, professing to be aware of a yet deeper 
reason for the colonel-in-chief’s animosity against 
the English captain. 

Out of all this chaff the one grain of truth was 
that Counsellor, released by Unziar on the authority 
of a telegram from Rallywood, had arrived by the 
first train in the morning and had at once proceeded 
to the British Legation. There he found Rallywood 
waiting for him. ‘You have seen the Chancellor?’ 
asked Counsellor, looking hard at Rallywood, whose 
brown face wore a look he had never seen upon it 
before. ‘Why was I released? Am I already too 
late ?’ 

‘No, you are not too late. You must see the 
Duke at once. Here are your despatches. Good- 
bye, Major, I’ll meet you presently.’ 

‘I shall not in all probability see Duke Gustave 
again. My part is over and done with. The world, 
my dear John, never sees a national policy until it 
begins to fly. There is no credit for hatching the 
egg. One would almost think it hatched of itself. 
Occasionally the egg is found to be addled, and then 
the old birds make away with it in private. But 
don’t go yet. How have you managed to keep 
these? What does it mean?’ 

‘It means principally that you must forget you 
have been robbed, that Elmur’s game is up, and 
that you were mistaken in your opinion of the 
Chancellor.’ 

Counsellor looked hurriedly through the papers 


THE ARRREST. 


279 

contained in the packet, 'John,' he said suddenly, as 
he folded up a small sheet of cypher notes, ‘you are 
an infernal liar.’ 

Rally wood laughed and his spurs jingled as he 
left the room, glad to have escaped so cheaply from 
Counsellor’s keen observation. The old Major went 
to the window and watched him ride away in the 
sunshine, a gallant figure in his glittering uniform, 
sitting squarely on his big bay charger. No suspi- 
cion crossed his thoughts that Rallywood was prob- 
ably taking his last ride through the sunny streets, 
that at every stride of his high-stepping horse he drew 
nearer to the final scene of all. He had gathered 
from Rallywood’s bearing that the difficulties in his 
path had somehow been surmounted. Rallywood 
was capable. He had won the day by energy or 
pluck or both, but the old diplomatist had no time 
at the moment to trouble his head as to the exact 
means. 

Before the forenoon was over Counsellor, acting 
through the proper channels, secured Maasau’s ac- 
ceptance of the British proposals, and a satisfactory 
undertaking which excluded all rivals from the field, 
at any rate during the Duke’s lifetime. Counsellor 
did not appear in the negotiations. He remained 
shut up at the Legation, but when at length they 
came to public knowledge the German party were 
not under any delusion; they recognised to whose 
direct offices they owed defeat. 

Baron von Elmur said nothing, as a matter of fact 


28 o a modern mercenary. 

he did nothing, but he used his influence with an 
effect that was yet to bear fruit. He was inclined to 
suspect Selpdorf, but the Chancellor proved that he 
had only carried out the German’s own suggestion 
in sending Rally wood to the Frontier. Ill-luck, he 
argued, combined with Sagan’s blundering, had done 
the rest. He deplored it. It was clear that Rally- 
wood, taking advantage of his position, and under 
pretence of carrying the despatches to the Chancellor 
had simply gone to Revonde and wired to Unziar a 
false order of release for Major Counsellor. The 
sole delinquent was Rallywood, and the Count in a 
torrent of curses promised himself a time of reckon- 
ing. 

The day, which had begun in a brief burst of sun- 
shine, closed in clouds. Evening climbed sullenly 
up out of the bleak river. 

Traffic died in the streets, and the cloaked troop- 
ers passing hither and thither against the rising tsa 
became the chief objects to be seen as night gathered. 

Rallywood stood at the side window of his quar- 
ters looking out over the twinkling city. He seemed 
to have had as yet no time for regret or gloomy 
anticipation. He had dwelt absorbed on the single 
fact that Valerie loved him. He was ready to sacri- 
fice himself and his hopes with a smile. Later on, 
in sorrow and heaviness of heart, he accused himself 
bitterly of spoiling Valerie’s young life. But he had 
not reached that stage yet; he was lingering in the 
first transient period when men and women see 


THE ARRREST. 


281 


visions and dream dreams, when the present is lost 
in the recent past, while love’s first spell is laid upon 
them, and the light that never was on land or sea 
blinds them to the chances and changes of common 
life. As long as the glory of it lasts a man is caught 
up into the seventh heaven, and the things of earth 
have no power over him. 

But the breaking of the vision came to Rally- 
wood sufficiently quickly. His view of the lamp-lit 
city grew suddenly blurred and he saw instead his 
own reflection in the polished glass, as the lights 
were turned on in the room behind him. In that 
same instant too the vagiie sweet outlook faded from 
his mind. 

Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder and he 
saw another figure mirrored beside his own against 
the dark background of the night. There was a 
suggestion of reluctance in Unziar’s movements. 

T regret, Captain Rallywood, that I have been 
ordered to place you in arrest’ 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 

It has been the privilege of one or two famous 
Gardes du Corps to be a law unto themselves. The 
Guard of Maasau shares that privilege. The inquiry 
or rather trial was to be held within closed doors, 
and by the express order of the colonel-in-chief all 
the officers, including those junior to the prisoner, 
were to be present. And every officer present on 
such occasions had the right to vote. The procedure 
was simple. When the witnesses had been examined 
the accused was invited to speak in his own defence, 
then the senior officer summed up and lastly the of- 
ficers recorded their votes. 

Rallywood’s offence had outraged the fundamental 
principle of the Guard, the blind self-sacrificing obe- 
dience which in trivial as in vital matters demanded 
the merging of the private individual with hopes and 
conscience of his own into the body corporate of the 
Guard. With the single exception of Unziar, no 
man present was acquainted with the details of 
Rallywood’s crime. They knew only that he had 
grossly disobeyed orders, and not only that, but had 
disobeyed them for the furtherance of private ambi- 
tion. So the charge against him intimated. It was 
282 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


283 

understood that the accusation had been lodged by- 
Count Sagan in consequence of information received 
by him, and the court-martial at once assembled to 
deal with the matter. 

The original prejudice against Rally wood as a 
foreigner and an interloper was revived, with all the 
more bitterness because the men had in the interval 
come to respect if not to like him. They resented 
the deception they believed to have been practised 
upon them with the rancour of those who find they 
have not only been played upon but made tools of. 
Rallywood had gained his position among them by 
false pretences to serve 4iis own ends — gained it to 
betray them. 

But more than this, he had dishonoured the Guard, 
brought the first blot of treachery upon its long and 
unblemished traditions. Hereditary instincts inbred 
and powerful were arrayed against him in the hearts 
of six of his judges; in the seventh, Count Sagan, 
he had to encounter the ill-blood of a profoundly 
vindictive nature whose purposes he had crossed and 
baffled, and who harboured towards him a savage 
personal hatred. 

It must be understood that so far no hint of the 
arrangement with England had been allowed to 
transpire. The engagement to be given by Maasau 
in return for the promised British loan and moral 
support was in train for completion, but the final sig- 
nature was not to take place till that afternoon. 
Meantime the Chancellor kept a still tongue in his 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


284 

head and waited upon events, knowing that when all 
transpired the responsibility could be shifted on to 
the shoulders of the Duke. It was a risky game, 
but M. Selpdorf had played many another — and won 
them all. At the same time he had no intention of 
putting out his hand to save Rallywood, whose dis- 
appearance from the scheme of earthly affairs would 
remove an awkward cause of disagreement from the 
range of his own family circle. Yet it must be ad- 
mitted that M. Selpdorf really regretted that the 
necessities of the case required the sacrifice of the 
Englishman, for whom his former abstract liking re- 
mained entirely unaltered. 

The doors of the great mess-room were closed, for 
within them the court-martial' was in progress. At 
the central table seven men with the marks of power 
upon them were gathered. Above them the torn 
banners of the regiment hung in the red gloom of the 
dome, but about the men themselves the gray-white 
light of a winter day fell from the riverward win- 
dows. It seemed to dull even the red glow of the 
hangings, that cold light, which lent to the faces of 
those assembled a strange effect of pallor. 

It is a common experience that silence in a place 
associated in the mind with voices and the move- 
ment and sounds of life has a weird and impressive 
effect. Enter an empty church and you are chilled ; 
hear a will read in the room which you connect with 
laughter and the genial routine of everyday events, 
and the uncanny quiet, falling away from the single 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


285 

voice, benumbs you. Thus in the mess-room, where 
music and laughter and the hubbub of men’s talking 
usually resounded, the unwonted stillness, broken 
only by the piercing wail of the tsa, struck coldly and 
heavily upon the senses. 

Count Sagan, his big chest covered with gold- 
lace and orders, loomed at the head of the table, 
Wallenloup and Ulm to his right and left, Adiron, 
Unziar, Adolf and Varanheim seated according to 
their rank. At the foot of the table in the uniform 
of the Guard but without a sword stood the prisoner. 

One man present was a complete stranger to Rally- 
wood — Major Ulm, who had just returned from 
leave, and whose keen eyes set in a thin shaven face 
scrutinised him coldly. Behind Ulm’s bald forehead 
dwelt most of the sagacity and discretion of the 
Guard. Strongly as his prejudices were excited he 
could not avoid being struck by the bearing of the 
prisoner. 

There was a cold fierceness about the men of the 
Guard, but Rallywood stood unmoved under the 
many hostile eyes. 

A court-martial, where the prisoner is condemned, 
is perhaps the most awful scene of justice upon earth. 
This is so because it contains within itself elements 
that edge its painfulness. The judges wield not only 
the power of death, but the power of putting a man 
to utter shame. The prisoners who stand at such 
a tribunal may be credited with the capability, given 
to them by training if not by nature, of feeling 


286 


A MODERN MERCENARV. 


shame. And the capability of suffering shame is as 
distinct a quality as the sense of honour. 

Count Sagan glared round the table, and the 
aspect of his colleagues pleased him ; they felt under 
his rough imagination like a sword whose temper 
the fighter is sure of. There was a horrible energy, 
a furious relentlessness about his very attitude and 
ringing in his voice that drove every word of his 
accusation into and through his hearers. As presi- 
dent he put questions to the prisoner, who answered 
them unmoved. 

Rallywood fronted them calm and soldierlike, the 
picture of a gallant despair. He felt as though he 
stood clear of his life. It was lived and the end in 
sight. His position was hard, but he seemed to be 
ready to say Amen to whatever the fates might send. 
He had no thought of struggling for life and love. 
He was far otherwise. He was one whose love is 
hopeless, whose loved one is lost as though in death, 
and who lives through the present dream according 
to an ideal, the ideal of being worthy of the vanished 
past. 

Unziar alone looked stonily blank, but the other 
grim faces round the table regarded Rallywood with 
a sort of satisfaction. He had sinned against them, 
but they were about to make him pay the highest 
human penalty for his sin. ' Yet to Ulm his de- 
meanour was suggestive. There was something 
eloquent of singleness of heart and nobleness that 
seemed to buoy up this man with his broken honour. 


tHE COUiiT-MARTlAL. 287 

There was no parade of outraged innocence, nothing 
but a fearless reserve. 

Rallywood hardly heard the grave voices that 
discussed his fate, stirring as they did so the clogging 
quiet which hung with such solemn effect over the 
historic room. 

Those lofty walls had never before echoed to a 
similar charge or a like disgrace. The accusation 
was set forth in general terms. It spoke only of a 
certain prisoner and certain despatches. Rallywood 
acting under valid orders, had taken over the de- 
spatches from Unziar, and next by a false telegram 
to Unziar had ordered the release of a certain pris- 
oner. Also he had used the despatches to forward 
aims of his own, to the loss and detriment of the 
Free State of Maasau. Anthony Unziar gave his 
evidence briefly and with caution, but it was con- 
clusive. 

After the charge had been completed and proved, 
a few minutes silence ensued. Then Count Sagan 
addressed the prisoner. 

'Captain Rallywood, have you anything to say in 
your own defence?’ 

A sudden jarring sense of amusement struck upon 
Rallywood. They were playing a farce; Count 
Simon, with his mortal enmity, was but acting his 
part. The whole procedure was hollow yet he 
Rallywood would have to give his life to prove that 
all this seeming was deadly earnest — that the blus- 


288 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


tering traitor opposite was not a defeated schemer 
but a loyal son of Maasau ! 

Rallywood could not repress a quick smile. 

Count Simon flung his fist upon the table. 

^Do you hear me?’ he shouted; 'what have you 
to say in your defence?’ 

Rallywood looked him in the eyes. 

'Nothing,’ he said. 

There was a hush. Sagan picked up the glances 
of the officers round him. Rallywood’ s words had 
come as a shock. Most of the men expected some 
attempt if not at a defence at least at a justification 
of his conduct. 

Sagan’s harsh voice was raised again. 

'His sword.’ 

Unziar sprang up hurriedly. 

'It is in the ante-room,’ he said; 'I will bring it’ 

Sagan rose from his place as Unziar returned 
with a naked sword in his hand. The Count took 
it and laid it on the table before him. 

Then standing he addressed the court. 

'Gentlemen of the Guard, — I must thank you in 
the first place for the admirable patience with which 
you have listened to the details of the abominable 
crime with which the prisoner, John Rallywood, is 
charged. His guilt has been proved up to the hilt by 
Lieutenant Unziar’s evidence, but in addition to that 
the accused was not ashamed to convict himself out 
of his own mouth. The sentence upon a traitor as 
upon a mutinous soldier is unalterable. It is death ! 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 289 

No doubt, gentlemen, we are unanimously agreed 
upon that, and the formality of the ballot is all that is 
left.’ 

The ballot-box stood upon a side-table at the 
upper end of the room, and beside it a basket with a 
number of ivory balls, some black, some white. The 
officers went up in rotation and each with his back 
to the company placed a ball of the colour he chose 
in the ballot-box. 

The haggard daylight was fading slowly as the 
men left their chairs and returned to them in silence. 

Rallywood waited, not in suspense indeed, but 
with the full sense that his fate was being legally 
recorded by a jury of his fellows. It is at such a 
moment as this that a man goes back to his belief in 
God. If there is no God, to what end anything? 
Those who say there is no God say the world is a sad 
and very evil place. If their creed were universally 
accepted, the last state of humanity would be worse 
than the first, and earth degenerate into a hopeless 
and helpless hell. 

'Six black balls, one white,’ announced Major 
Ulm. 

The .prisoner’s gray frank eyes flashed out at 
Unziar, but the Maasaun’s rigid face gave no sign. 

Then Count Sagan, secure of his enemy, let him- 
self go. He lifted the sword from the table, and 
casting one more glance at the prisoner, he placed 
the gleaming point upon the floor, bending the deli- 
cate blade, and stamping upon it midway with his 


A MODERN mercenary. 


^90 

booted heel. There was a shallow ring as the steel 
broke, then a clash of metal as the Count flung the 
hilt upon the point, as if the touch contaminated 
him. 

‘John Rally wood, this court has found you guilty 
and condemned you to die! And I, Count Simon 
of Sagan, colonel-in-chief of the Guard of Maasau, 
now pronounce upon you the sentence of death. 
Trusted by the Guard, you chose to betray them! 
Where is the oath of fealty by which you swore to 
obey? We are polluted by your treason, we are 
tainted by your shame! Are you afraid to speak? 
Is your voice frozen in your throat? The greater 
part of your punishment should be in its shame. But 
you cannot feel it! You and shame are strangers — 
the last infamy of the base! You are loathsome, a 
mercenary false to his salt, a hound who sold him- 
self for money first and for disgraceful gain after- 
wards ! How can I touch you ? Where can I prod 
you? On what nerve, since the nerve of shame is 
dead? Like the groom, one could only punish you 
with a whip. I shall lay the matter before the Duke. 
I will urge it upon my colleagues,’ he swept his arm 
round the table ; ‘a hundred with the whip or to run 
the gauntlet of the Guard. That would touch you 
more than words, or shame, or death! Ha, that 
reaches you!’ he cried, and then there was a fierce 
exultation in the raucous volleying words, ‘You have 
disgraced the Guard but we cannot for reasons of 
state publicly disgrace you. But you shall be shot — 


fnn COUkT-MARTlAt. 


291 

shot like a dog! You shall not meet death face to 
face as many a brave man has met it, but you shall 
be shot, cringing with your back to the gun-muzzles 
— like the cur you are I’ 

Rallywood’s pale features had flushed for a 
second. There was a brutality about Sagan's de- 
nunciations which shocked the men around him. 
Rallywood deserved something, but not this, not 
that ! Unziar's eyes burned, Wallenloup was frown- 
ing. But Sagan swept on. He was a man who 
trampled horribly upon a fallen foe. 

At last Wallenloup could bear it no longer. He 
rose to his feet and saluting the Count led the way 
from the room, the line closing with Rallywood be- 
tween Adolf and Unziar as guard. 

Left alone in the great dim vaulted chamber, 
Sagan stood upright and watched the door through 
which they had filed out, and there came upon him in 
the dying daylight a terrible moment, such as all 
uncontrolled natures must at times know. A sense 
of the futility of all things, a knowledge that life 
has lost its taste, the hideousness of finally baffled 
desire. 

He hurled out his heavy arms with a wild gesture. 

‘Where have they gone? Where are they, the 
strong lusts and hates and triumphs — the satisfac- 
tions of the old days? The world has grown puny. 
It is empty, empty, empty !' 


CHAPTER XXX. 

'upon the great world's altar-stairs.' 

It is a commonplace that selfish natures, balked of 
gratification, seek relief in making the unhappiness 
of others, preferably of those who are helpless to re- 
sist or to resent. Therefore Count Sagan employed 
the interval before going to the Palace to procure the 
signature of the Duke to Rally wood’s death-warrant 
in paying a flying visit to his wife, whom he had not 
seen since the morning of the boar-hunt at the 
Castle. 

He found several other people calling upon 
Madame de Sagan, who was not fond of solitude. 
Numbers gave the pretty Countess courage. She 
took no notice of her husband’s entrance, although 
the soft colour left her face instantly as a candle- 
flame is blown out. But Count Simon had only five 
minutes to spare and something to say in them. 
Isolde’s feeble rebellion escaped him ; he strode to her 
side, and with a single glance dispersed the little 
coterie of guests about her, the only one who kept his 
position being Baron von Elmur. 

Sagan stood before his wife, an evil smile on his 
coarse bearded mouth. He nodded at Elmur. 

T have news of interest for both of you.' 

292 


'upon the great world's altar-stairs.' 293 

'Ah! it is over then?’ Elmur asked at once. He 
discerned the Count’s intention and would have 
averted its fulfilment if possible. The thought that 
he was about to make a woman unhappy never de- 
terred Elmur from any course of action whatsoever, 
but he preferred not to see them so. He delighted 
in pretty women, and Isolde of Sagan was excep- 
tionally pretty; therefore, for the sake of the next 
half hour of her society he would have spared her the 
tidings her husband’s malice designed to thrust upon 
her in public. Afterwards the deluge might come, 
but what matter? Have we not all our deluges in 
private that submerge our world in tears ? ‘Madame 
has kindly promised to assist in the tableaux vivants 
next week,' he added hastily. 

The Count grinned his contempt. 

‘You should reproduce the death of a traitor. 
Come to see Rallywood shot in the morning by way 
of an object lesson.' 

Madame de Sagan's hand flew to her throat with 
a quick gasp of horror ; for a second the room seemed 
to swing round, then slowly settle again. 

‘Why, what has he done ?’ she asked ; her lips were 
dry but she spoke deliberately. 

‘Nothing new, only he happened to be found out 
this time. Well, au revoir !' 

Elmur stood up and followed him. 

‘The signature of his Highness?' he asked in a 
low voice. 


294 ^ MODERN MERCENARY. 

'I go to get it and other things also. I have ar- 
ranged the interview with Selpdorf.’ 

Elmur bowed and returned to his place by the side 
of the Countess. Isolde’s blue eyes, dewy as a child’s 
with unshed tears, appealed to him. 

‘It is not true?’ 

Elmur reflected that he had never before seen her 
look so pretty. Most women with tears in their eyes 
repelled his fastidiousness, but this one was delicious. 
He bent towards her and said as much with a fervour 
that surprised her. She smiled tremulously. She 
had always considered the wary German worth cap- 
turing, but he was an elusive bird. Admiration had 
never before got the better of his self-possession; 
now for the first time he appeared to be carried away 
by it. The keenness of conquest thrilled her. Jack? 
— ah, yes, poor Jack! But he was practically lost 
to her for ever. She sighed a little; she had been 
fond of Jack, but the love that can stand against the 
inevitable was not hers. She reminded herself that 
Jack had preferred Valerie — but, why, so had 
Elmur! A temptation came to her; she glanced 
again at Elmur. He was personable though advanc- 
ing to middle age, and handsome as men go, though 
his eyes were close-set and cunning. He was not 
like poor Jack — no, she would never find anyone 
perhaps quite so good to look upon as Jack, with his 
broad shoulders and corn-coloured hair, and those 
dear frank eyes ! No, but 

‘Madame, what are you thinking of? I wish I 


%PON THE GREAT WORLD's ALTAR-STAIRS/ 295 

dared flatter myself that I could ever draw tears to 
those exquisite eyes,’ Elmur said again with warmth. 
He wanted excitement and Isolde was yielding. 
There are women who will sacrifice the most sacred 
things, God’s word itself, on the altar of their vanity. 
Isolde withdrew her slight hand from his touch, but 
it was the withdrawal that invites advance. She 
hesitated no longer. 

There are other eyes whose tears will be bitterer 
than mine ; are you not jealous of them ? I am sorry 
for Captain Rallywood, of course, but poor Valerie 
— what am I saying ?’ 

‘Whatever you say interests me,’ he urged, his 
eyes following hers. 

She pouted coquettishly. 

‘Yes, because I speak of Valerie!’ 

‘No, it is because you speak!’ he declared amo- 
rously. ‘Tell me of Mademoiselle Valerie if you 
will,’ this as a concession, ‘though you could tell me 
something more interesting.’ 

‘Not more interesting to you than this,’ she ex- 
claimed, nodding her golden head at him with her 
little air of foolish wisdom. ‘It is lucky that Captain 
Rallywood is — is about to furnish an object-lesson, 

for ’ she raised her slender finger and laid it on 

her lips, smiling at him. 

He looked round. They were alone in a smaller 
drawing-room ; it was not possible for the guests in 
the other saloon to see them. He drew the finger 
from her lips and pressed it to his own. He would 


296 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

WOO the truth from this beautiful fool. His words 
meant one thing, his looks another. 

'And Valerie?’ he questioned, seeming to count 
her fingers on his palm. 

‘Valerie loves him — she told me so,’ whispered 
Isolde, since there was no longer need to speak 
louder. 

‘And you, my dear lady?’ And it may be the 
speech was the more impassioned because in his 
heart he was damning the picturesqueness of the cap- 
tain of the Guard. 

And Rally wood? Rallywood sat in his quarters 
thinking thoughts that, like music, lead sometimes 
on to exaltation. His earthly life was done, and he 
looked out into the dim beyond fearlessly. His eyes 
were set and sad, for he should see her face and hear 
Valerie’s voice no more, but he would be waiting in 
that somewhere for her. A man in the supremer 
hours often turns again to the faiths of his child- 
hood; so now Rallywood, at the summit of his life, 
found himself given back all those lost dreams. 

He did not know how she came there. He heard 
no footstep enter. And when he knew, neither 
spoke. 

There was nothing to say; it was all understood 
so well. She stood beside him, her hands in his in 
a strange lull of mutual knowledge. 

‘How did you come ?’ he asked her at last. 

‘Anthony,’ she answered, ‘he knows — all.’ 


^UPON THE GREAT WORLD'S ALTAR-STAIRS.' 297 

‘How like him ! But,’ with a man’s ready thought 
for the woman he loves, ‘you must not be found here. 
Say good-bye to me, Valerie.’ 

‘John,’ she clung to him, ‘how can I let you go? 
You are dying for Maasau — for my father — for me 
— yes, yes, I can guess all !’ 

‘Valerie, do you know what your love is to me? 
I need nothing more. I have not thought of what 
there is beyond, but when you want me you will find 
me waiting.’ 

In the long silence life itself might have been sus- 
pended. 

‘When?’ said Valerie, in a sudden recollection of 
anguish. 

‘To-morrow,’ he answered, understanding the 
broken question. 

Valerie raised her wet eyes. 

‘In my life there can be no to-morrow. God may 
not let me die, but my life will always be one long 
remembrance of to-day. I shall live in to-day 
always. To-morrows are for happier women, John. 
And yet I ^m wicked to say that. I would not 
change my lot with any other. For have I not my 
memories? And I will learn to have my hopes. 
And whenever that blessed day of release may come 
to me, I will bring my heart to you as it is to-day, my 
king !’ 

Rallywood looked into the beautiful tear-dimmed 
eyes. He was too wise to say that he had spoilt her 
life, that had it been possible to set the wrong right 


2gS A MODERN MERCENARY. 

by any sacrifice he would have done so. Of this he 
said nothing. He only kissed her. 

‘Next to living to be with you, darling, I am 
in love with dying for you, Valerie!’ 

The silence grew again between them, the best 
and saddest silence upon earth — the silence of all’s 
said. 

‘And yet, John, I have one thing left to live for. 
I will live to see your name stand where it should. 
For men like you are only understood and honoured 
— afterwards,’ she said presently. 

Another man might have disclaimed all praise. 
Rallywood, who believed he deserved none, kept 
silence. He knew that to deny would be to wound. 
And he was fain to say to her a thing which was 
hard to say and hard to hear. But he was looking 
out into the troubled future, and his anxiety for 
her grew bitter upon him. So he nerved himself 
to the greatest sacrifice of all. And Valerie’s next 
words gave him the opening he desired. 

‘Your sword ’ she began. 

‘Is broken.’ 

‘No, no! Anthony brought another to Count 
Sagan, not yours. Yours was not the sword of a 
traitor! That also I will keep.’ 

‘Unziar — I thank him. And Valerie, listen! 
When they condemned me there was one vote in my 
favour. You can guess whose.’ 

‘Anthony’s ?’ 


'upon the great world^s altar-stairs/ 299 

'Yes, Valerie, and he loves you, and I will not 
blame — I wish — I would ask ' 

Valerie’s glance met his. She understood. 

'No,’ she said; 'I will thank him, and like him 
dearly and pray for him, but not that — no, not ever 
that!’ 

A quiet knock on the door. 

'And now it is good-bye.’ 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


DUKE GUSTAVE. 

Whatever may be said to the contrary, the fact 
remains that a little independent success acts on a 
morally weak man as a glass of wine upon a physic- 
ally weak one. For a time it exalts and quickens 
him. 

Duke Gustave of Maasau was in a condition of 
mental exhilaration, and experiencing to the full the 
false sensation of strength thus created when Sagan 
was announced. Selpdorf, who had been listening 
for some minutes to his master’s self-gratulations on 
the newly ratified British contract rose as if to take 
his departure. 

Wait, Selpdorf !’ the Duke said. 

^My lord has asked for a private interview, your 
Highness,’ Selpdorf reminded him. 

Wes, but I have no private affairs to discuss with 
my cousin. Anything that need be said between 
us is better said before a witness,’ replied the Duke. 
‘How do you suppose he will take the news of our 
agreement with England ?’ 

Selpdorf ’s answer was slow in coming, and before 
he spoke Count Sagan strode into the room. He 
carried a sheaf of papers ; his imperious temper was 
300 


DUKE GUSTAVE. 3OI 

wont to rush every business through to which he 
put his hand. . 

‘I begged for a few moments in private with your 
Highness/ he said, with a glance at the Minister. 

‘Our good Selpdorf is too discreet to be considered 
a third,’ answered the Duke blandly. ‘He knows 
our secrets without being told them. Pray proceed, 
my lord ; is there anything I can do for you ?’ 

‘Yes, sire; I wish to lay before you the matter I 
was forced to postpone at the Castle. I also made 
use of the opportunity to bring one or two papers 
relating to the Guardjor signature.’ 

The Duke took the papers. He was seated at a 
writing-table, and he glanced carelessly over them as 
Sagan went on. 

‘Under your approval those papers include Lieu- 
tenant Unziar’s appointment as captain, vice Colen- 
dorp ’ 

‘Deceased,’ put in the Duke with a sharp signifi- 
cance. 

Sagan frowned. Gustave had a curious alertness 
about him to-night. 

‘Yes, poor fellow ! We can ill spare him,’ he said. 
‘Also we have agreed to propose Abenfeldt as junior 
subaltern.’ 

‘I have no objection,’ the Duke said. 

‘As for the other subject upon which I have for 
some time wished to speak to you, sire, I am author- 
ised to lay before your Highness certain proposals — ’ 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


302 

'Stop, my lord,' again interrupted the Duke, 'if 
those proposals have any reference to von Elmur and 
his projects for the good of the State, I absolutely 
decline to hear them. What’s this?’ he had laid 
aside the upper papers after signature, and was scan- 
ning the one below with an expression of coun- 
tenance which showed that he liked what he read 
very little. 

Sagan watched him with a deepening frown, the 
more subtle Selpdorf with curiosity. At other times 
it had been the Duke’s custom to add his signature 
to papers without a glance at their contents. The 
destiny of one man is thus often decided by the 
passing mood of another. 

'What’s this about Rallywood?’ 

'A bad business, but your Highness’s signature 
makes many a wrong right,’ said Sagan, with a 
clumsy attempt at pleasantry; 'it needs only that. 
You have the pen and ink, sire.’ 

'But, by Heaven, not the will!’ cried the Duke. 
'I will not sign it ! And if I will not, hey?’ 

'M. Selpdorf will assure you that it is necessary in 
the case of discipline,’ urged Sagan with a lowering 
look. 

'And I will assure M. Selpdorf that I am accus- 
tomed to make up my own mind! You know it 
already, Selpdorf!’ 

'I have always known it, sire,’ said the supple 
Chancellor. 


DUKE GUSTAVE. 303 

‘You will hear my reasons?’ asked Sagan angrily. 

The Duke nodded. 

‘Captain Rallywood was guilty of gross disobedi- 
ence of orders. His case has been laid before a 
court-martial of his brother officers, and he has been 
condemned to be shot. The trial has been conducted 
with justice.’ 

‘What were Captain Rally wood’s orders, then ?’ 

‘He was ordered to carry certain dispatches to the 
Chancellor, but he carried them elsewhere for his 
own purposes.’ 

The Duke nodded slowly and half closed his eyes. 
He remembered a certain damp morning by the 
river, when Rallywood had ridden to take orders 
from Selpdorf. 

‘So you are in this also, Selpdorf ?’ he said, ‘What 
despatches were these? Pray tell me frankly. I 
believe I know something already.’ 

‘Despatches sent to me from the Frontier, sire.’ 

‘Which he failed to bring to you. Where then 
did he take them ?’ 

The delay and the persistent unexpected question- 
ing of the Duke irritated Sagan almost beyond en- 
durance. He struck in. 

‘Sire, does it matter what he did with them, as 
we have proof that he disobeyed orders? That is 
the point — what need to ask further ?’ Then, as the 
Duke still shook his head, he burst out, ‘Well, then, 
he carried them to the British Legation — to his own 


304 A MODERN MERCENARY. 

countrymen, mind you. He was false to his oath as 
a soldier ! He must be shot !’ 

Gustave of Maasau was a man who lied much and 
often, as those of poor moral calibre will. He lied 
now with zest. 

‘So? Although Captain Rally wood acted under 
my personal instructions, Simon ?’ he said quietly. 

Sagan sprang to his feet. 

‘Yes,’ resumed the Duke, warming to his role, 
‘Yes, he acted under my orders, for the despatches 
were connected with the agreement I have within the 
last hour signed with England, and about which the 
first proposals were laid before me at midnight by 
the British Envoy during my visit to your Castle !’ 

‘What ?’ shouted Sagan, as his house of cards fell 
about him. ‘You lie, Gustave! And Germany? 
Selpdorf, we hold your promises! It is impossible 
to think this to be true?’ 

‘It is true,’ said the Chancellor. ‘I beg you will 
recollect that his Highness is present, my lord. This 
excitement ’ 

Sagan stood gasping and staring. His passion 
seemed to choke him as he stood, but the Duke, still 
exalted by the sense of triumph and power, mistook 
the silence for speechless humiliation. His temper 
rose as the other’s seemed to sink. 

‘You can deceive me no more, my lord Sagan!’ 
he cried in a high excited voice. ‘You took Colen- 
dorp from me, you would now take Rallywood, one 


Duke GustAvfi. 


305 

by one all my faithful Guard ! But I am sovereign 
still! You shall not tamper any longer with my 
loyal State; you shall never bring your traitorous 
German schemes to an issue I’ 

But there were things impossible for Count Simon 
of Sagan to endure. Never before had he been 
twitted with impotence and failure. He could not 
survive so utter a defeat. A man to bear these things 
must be less thorough than the Count. He was too 
fierce, too imperious, to bear so great a reverse. If he 
must be put to shame before the world, if even a 
paltry captain of the Guard were to be permitted to 
negative his will, why then life had best be over 1 

He seemed to struggle for speech ; at last, without 
warning, his passion leaped into flame. Like a wild 
beast he sprang across the table at the Duke — the 
poor snivelling coward who had dared to flay him 
with his tongue I The old hate fired the new fury as 
he clutched Gustave. 

The Duke gave a shrill feeble cry, not such a cry 
as one would have expected from a man of his age, 
and then Selpdorf was between them shouting for 
the Guard. 

'You false hound!’ Sagan gnashed his teeth in 
Selpdorf ’s face as the Chancellor threw himself upon 
him. 

Shouts and shots, and the wild turmoil of a deadly 
struggle. Then the Guard had secured Sagan. The 
Duke stood trembling and incoherent, leaning upon 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


306 

the table, and between them, face downwards on the 
floor, the Chancellor with a bullet in his groin and 
for once playing a role he had not prepared. 

Sagacious, supple, self-seeking, yet not utterly 
seared, in the last resort he offered up his life for the 
master he had almost betrayed. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


FOR A SEASON. 

Queens Fain lies upon the inner edge of Lincoln- 
shire, in an undulating countryside amongst great 
old trees, where of an evening the sun throws bars of 
light across the levels of turf, where homing rooks 
fly in scattered lines against a gleaming sky, the air 
breathes coolness and peace, and the scene lays that 
ineffable spell upon the heart of which only the exile 
can ever know the full pathetic power. 

Round the house tall fences of yew and holly fend 
off the colder winds. On an evening in early spring 
Rallywood and Counsellor strolled under the shelter 
of a massive black wall of yew. The daffodils were 
blowing about the border of the lake below them, and 
along the distant hedges furry catkins were already 
nodding and floating on the crisp breeze. 

T have found it necessary once or twice before to 
say that you were a fool, John,' said Counsellor, look- 
ing up at a corner of the great stone-built mansion, 
its cold aspect yellowed and mellowed by the 
strengthening sunshine. 

‘Always or on occasion?' Rallywood laughed 
easily. 


307 


A MODERN MERCENARY. 


308 

‘Mostly. You will not leave the Guard. If I 
were you I should go tomorrow. Marry the girl as 
soon as she will let you, and bring her here. Then 
sit down and shoot partridges. She will like it. It 
is better than Maasau.’ 

‘It is altogether good to own the old place again,' 
Rallywood said, ‘and we’ll do our duty by the 
partridges. Major, you and I, I hope, by-and-by, 
but to do that and nothing else — not yet !’ 

‘You’ve stalked bigger game and that has spoilt 
you,’ grumbled the Major. ‘After Count Sagan, 
partridges pall. Yet it is a pity.’ 

‘I shall bring Valerie here sometimes, of course. 
I think she’ll like the old place almost as much as I 
do.’ 

‘More, since it is the birthplace and home of one 
John Rallywood,’ said Counsellor with a twist of his 
big moustache. ‘You lucky, undeserving beggar! 
So Selpdorf’s gone. A queer compound.’ 

‘His death redeemed — much,’ said Rallywood, 
shortly. 

‘Yes,’ Counsellor puffed out a great cloud of 
smoke, ‘yes, but we have no reason to forget the fact 
that he was very ready to secure himself at a heavy 
cost to you.’ 

‘For the sake of Maasau,’ interposed Rallywood. 

‘Hum — for the sake of Maasau ! And you were 
an inconvenient personality also. Well, well, let it 
pass. But it was touch and go with you, John, for 
no one could have foreseen that shaky old Gustave 


FOR A SEASON. 3O9 

would rise to the occasion as he did. And what has 
he done for you after all T 

'He saved my life first, and gave me the Gold Star 
of Maasau afterwards,’ said Rallywood, 'an honour 
which I share with some monarchs — and Major 
Counsellor.’ 

‘Dirt cheap, too!’ grunted Counsellor. 'I hear 
that Madame de Sagan sent you a very neat con- 
gratulation. 

“A genoux sur la terre 

Nous Tendons graces ^ Dieu 
Et nous lui faisons voeux 
D’une double pridre.” 

You can take your own meaning out of it,’ ended 
the Major. 

'And the people being chiefly malicious will take 
the wrong one.’ 

'That is as it may be. But for you I hope a fine 
morning will follow the stormy evening. You will 
grow fat and selfish, John, like many a better man.’ 

Rallywood smiled. He was thinking of a certain 
elderly diplomat who, rumour said, had been moved 
out of his usual composure on one occasion only. It 
was at the moment when he heard that Captain 
Rallywood of the Maasaun Guard was sentenced to 
be shot. 

'By the way,’ resumed Counsellor, 'did I tell you 
that I saw von Elmur yesterday at Charing Cross? 
He said he was starting for Constantinople. I bade 
him good-bye, but he corrected me, "Au revoir, my 


3lO A MODERN MERCENARY. 

dear Major/’ and kissed the tips of his fingers to me 
as the train passed. So perhaps the end is not yet.’ 

‘God bless the present !’ said Rallywood. 

And while they walk and talk over the past and 
the future in the pleasant places of England, the surf 
is beating round an island off the Maasaun coast, 
upon which a storm-stricken fortification has been 
adapted to the use of a certain political prisoner, 
Count Simon of Sagan. There he frets, and schemes, 
and longs through the endless afternoons. He does 
not accept his destiny as final, his hopes are unim- 
paired, his resolves as strong as in the old keen days 
at Sagan. He clings to a blind conviction that Time 
and the Man must inevitably meet together, and he 
lives for that meeting. 

There, too, Anthony Unziar serves his country 
and his sovereign, relentlessly watchful through the 
dead monotony of the days. At his own urgent re- 
quest he was given charge of the lonely prison, its 
solitude appearing to him the one bearable condition 
of life. He has his work to do and he does it well, 
and always between Count Sagan and his dreams 
stands the irrevocable figure of the young Maasaun. 

Sometimes Sagan taunts him with his hopeless 
love, but he only answers by a look. And each knows 
that wherever he may turn, he will find the other 
standing up against him — the fierce imbruted pris- 
oner with his royal fearlessness, and his intense and 
frigid guard. 

They are waiting. They have each his dream. 


FOR A SEASON. 


3II 

Sagan’s of empire and revenge, for he is after all a 
splendid ruffian, untamable, gallant, a man who could 
never be compelled to cry ‘Enough’ to evil fortune. 

Sometimes deep in the night, while the two en- 
emies play their long games together, Sagan flings 
down the cards and laughs and speaks of another 
game which will find its conclusion in the dim paths 
of the future. But Unziar only smiles. If that day 
should ever come it will find him ready. But to-day 
is not to-morrow, and ‘God bless the present!’ as 
Rallywood said. 


THE END. 





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